


Our Kid Sofia

by JadeLupine



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Adorable baby, Angst, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Well not angst, cuteness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-20 22:13:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 30,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/892492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeLupine/pseuds/JadeLupine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal and Will find an infant abandoned on their doorstep. Reluctantly (on Hannibal's side), they take her in, and try (emphasis on TRY) to make sure she's kept alive, believing it to be on a temporary basis. But how do two men take care of a baby, especially men as inexperienced as Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham, and especially a baby so capable of making chaos like Sofia? </p><p>(Based on a set of GIFs by Harunaoko on Tumblr. Prepare for this to span a lot of chapters)</p><p>FINAL CHAPTER: The Lecters finally managed to pass off as a heterosexual couple, but now two other women turn up, claiming to be Mrs Lecter! Plus, the wedding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sofia

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I've seen harunaokos pretty amazing GIFs on this topic, and I wanted to try it out. I hope you'll like it.

It wasn't cold when Will's eyes shot open at three in the morning. It wasn't cold, it wasn't hot either. Shadowy figures danced infront of his eyes, but they seemed to be from lack of sleep, instead of from traces of a dying nightmare. He looked to his left, where Hannibal, his lover of seven months slept deeply, a hand thrown over his eyes to block out the window Will insisted on having open. It wasn't uncomfortable at all, and Will, grunting in annoyance, was about to settle into slumber again when he heard the pesky noise that woke him up.

The cry pierced into Will's oversensitive ears and Winston lazily cocked up an ear on the varnished floor before laying back down to sleep. Lazy little shit, thought Will, pushing back the covers and wincing as his feet touched the floor. He padded softly to the front door of Hannibal's office, where the cry seemed to originate from. It rang out again, and Will wondered if it was the murderous stag again, come to screech and scream in Will's mind. And with that cheerful contemplation, he threw open the door. 

A soft wind tickled his face. 

You woke for nothing, the wind whispered in his face, the song lilting in his head. He almost shut the oak door again when he saw the little bundle lying on the doorstep, swathed in blankets. He closed his eyes in sheer annoyance. Hannibal got his meat from really odd sources, but couldn't they wait until morning to put the roast on the bloody doorstep? 

And then the roast began to cry in earnest, perhaps in outrage at being thought a roast. 

A baby, sang Will's broken mind, and Will, in some odd way, saw himself pick up the bundle and look at its face. He had no idea how to judge upon the attractiveness of babies, and even if he could, he wouldn't be able to, since the poor mite's face was mottled red with crying, mouth wide open, and eyes leaking actual tears. 

Will shut the door with his foot. 

"HANNIBAL!" His voice seemed higher than it normally was, a nervous sort of yell, since he was terrified of dropping the infant and breaking it, or such vile possibility. 

"...Will, I do not appreciate waking up at night. It leaves me in a bad mood for the morning, and when I'm in a bad mood, so is everyo...." 

Hannibal's deep accented voice slowly dissipated as he saw what Will was holding, and holding badly, at that. 

"Will." 

"Yes?" Will's eyes grew wider and his face screwed up a little, as it was wont to do when he was stressed. 

"What is that you're holding?" 

"Um, a baby. I..."

"Will." Hannibal closed his eyes. Sighed. Opened his eyes again. 

The damn thing was still there. And so was the baby.  

"Yes, Hannibal?" Will seemed to have a calming effect on the baby, as it peered eagerly at his unshaven face. 

"Will you please enlighten me as to how it got here? I hope you secretly haven't gone off and given birth in my latrines, it will be such a mess later." Humor. Humor, Hannibal, before you kill both or maybe just Will for bringing the damn thing here. 

"I found it outside. It was crying, Hannibal." 

"Put it back, please." Hannibal wanted to go back to sleep. He wanted to do it now. 

"I can't just put a baby back!" Will said incredulously. "Look, it came with a note!" He rummaged within the swathes of her fold. 

"Maybe we should note the entrance and write them a thank you card." Hannibal snapped, coming closer to see the note.

"Oh haha, Hannibal humor." Will scoffed, and started to read it aloud. "Dear men who live in 3A Elgerton Baltimore, I'm Mel, and I've just had this child. My husband is an alcoholic, amd I cannot raise a child in this environment. I have seen both of you outside and you seem like the perfect couple to look after a baby." Will's voice ended on a squeak before continuing. "Please love it, and care for it like it is your own. I do not want my shild growing up in a Home, or an orphanage. Just for now, until I find tenacy in England. I am most grateful, Mel." 

The two men stared at each other. 

"Put it back _now_." Hannibal ordered. 

"It would DIE!" Will protested. "You can't just leave a baby in the cold, Hannibal, its just not done." 

"Where I come from, they call that natural selection. Put. It. Back." Hannibal closed his eyes. 

"No." Will said, a rare act of defiance. "We'll just make sure it lives, until this Mel person comes to take it back, or somtething. It won't take long, Hannibal. England's pretty easy to get tenacy in." 

"Where do you expect us to get food for that thing? Will, neither of us can take care of your imbecile Winston, let alone a baby!" 

"I take expert care of Winston, and you know that!" 

"Which is why, Will," Hannibal exhaled forcefully, "he barked the house down and alerted the entire area when a stranger left a strange thing at my house." 

The child was an incredibly precocious one, it seemed, as it seemed to know when it was being insulted. It started screaming and screaming, its face turning red in anger and its nose scrunching up. 

Will, taken by surprise at the sudden noise, jumped slightly and dislodged the baby from the crook in his arm so that it hung slightly dangerously between his hands. Hannibal stretched out his hands.

"Give it here. I do not want infanticide on my hands, not when I'm already contemplating animal cruelty." Hannibal hissed darkly. 

Will tried to smile, handing the kid over with a sigh of relief. "To Winston?" He chuckled. 

"No. You." Hannibal tried to position the child properly in his arms, nesting the soft head into his elbow as the kid stopped crying and screeching. 

 

" _This is your little sister, Hannibal, her name is Mischa."_

_"She's so small, Mama. Will she grow?"_

_"Oh she'll grow, Hannibal, she'll become a big strong woman, and you'll protect her until then, won't you?"_

_"Ok. But I don't think she's going to be very big, look at her fingers. And she doesn't have any teeth at all!"_

_"They will come, and then they will be replaced by big boy teeth, like yours next year, won't that be exciting?"_

 

"We can keep it." Hannibal closed his eyes and cursed himself for his momentary weakness. "But only until this mother comes, and only if she comes soon. Otherwise its off to the orphanage. Now take it and put it to sleep." 

Will's eyes grew in terror. 

"Literally, Will. Find it a bed." Hannibal stalked off to their own bed, while Will followed close behind, holding the child tightly this time. 

"Hannibal, there's no bed in this house. Do you want it to sleep on the desk, or in the kitchen?"

Hannibal lay down on his side of the bed, and folded his arms over his eyes. 

"I don't care, Will. Make sure it sleeps and doesn't die in the night." 

"All right then," Will got into bed too, and placed the child next to him, between both of them, "You can sleep with us tonight, can't you?" 

"No, it cannot." Hannibal looked at the baby, his lip curling up, and then turned his back on the both of them annoyedly. 

"Will, it has urinated." Hannibal's deep voice came ringing as Will was stroking the child to sleep. "Kindly remove the offending clothes and place them in the laundry basket." 

"Oh, did you have a little accident, did you now?" Will put on an exaggerated voice and made faces at the child, and Hannibal cringed in disgust. 

"It's a girl!" Will laughed, as the baby sprawled naked, laughing and kicking its' legs. "It's an adorable girl!" 

"Clothe it please." Hannibal's voice was muffled by the pillow he pressed his sleek head into. Maybe if he pressed hard enough he would die, and he wouldn't have to deal with Will and his mother hen insticts. 

"Um. With what? Do you have diapers running around in your cupboard, Hannibal?" 

"Put it in one of your shirts." 

"My shirts are plaid, Hannibal. Your nightshirt is silk." 

Hannibal groaned softly into the pillow as he raised himself up angrily, and took off his shirt, handing it to Will. 

"Did you, I don't know, leave a chest hair or something on it? We wouldn't want her to choke." Will wrapped the shirt round the baby and smiled at it. 

I hope she chokes, Hannibal thought darkly, hoping he had left a whole head of chest hairs in the shirt. 

"So, what can we call her, Hannibal?" 

"Nu." Came the reply, muffled, from hannibal's side. 

"Nu?" Was this some odd, Lithuanian name?

"Nu. E. Sance. I even thought of a middle initial." 

"Hannibal, seriously. What about Jill?" 

"If I weren't sleeping, I would be vomiting." 

"Jenny?" 

"No."

"Okay, what about my mum's name? Never knew her, but she was called Louisa?" 

"No." Hannibal grunted. 

"What about your mum's name?" Will asked. 

"No."

"Didn't you have a kid sister? Meesha? What about that?" 

"Never." Forcefully exhaled. 

"Francesca?"

"No."

"Sophia?"

"With an F." Hannibal was tired, and hewanted to sleep, or die. This was good enough.

"Sofia? That's wonderful." 

"Sleep." 

Will reached over and kissed Hannibal's cheek, once, before doing the same to Sofia.

"I wonder if Sofia is hungry, is she hungry?" 

"If she is, you can feed her with milk from your breast, can't you?" Hannibal hissed. It was four in the morning. 

"Well, I hope she doesn't get fed from your breast, she'll get poisoned." 

"Will?" 

"Yes, Hannibal?" 

"We don't have breasts." 

 

 


	2. Feed Me, Clothe Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So the guys go shopping for clothes, food and other such 'neccesities' and debate on buying toys.

Hannibal opened his eyes to the quiet ticking of the clock by their bedside, as he blearily cheched the time. 9:05. He had overslept by two hours. Most unusual. He turned over, about to wake Will,when he caught sight of the small, moving bundle lying between them. She had her eyes open and Hannibal noticed they were pale blue, contrasting with her black hair, not that there was much of it. She kicked up her feet and wrinkled her nose.

"Stay there, Julia." Hannibal instructed, wagging a finger at the baby, "Do not move while I prepare breakfast."

"It's Sofia," muttered Will sleepily. "Don't give her an identity crisis, Hannibal."

"Stay there, baby." He re-issued his instruction militarily.

She cooed, blowing bubbles.

One hour later, Hannibal had relaid his dining table to serve three people. On each dish he placed three servings of bacon, an egg and a sprig of coriander to keep things fresh. He sighed contentedly and went over to the bedroom. Will had gotten up to take a shower, and he had placed a pillow on each side of the infant, so it wouldn't tragically roll out of bed. Hannibal almost felt inclined to remove one of the pillows andtilt the bed,but he didn't because the child was staring straight at him, and it stretched its arms out dramatically, begging to be picked up. Hannibal closed his eyes and sighed.

"Only this once." He picked up the baby and stared at her. She gave him a gummy, toothless grin and kicked her feet. "I hope you do not get pampered like this too much. It will be most unfortunate for a child in this age to rely too much on..." Hannibal's no-doubt entertaining lecture was cut short by the fact that Sofia started wailing piteously, pursing her lips and making sucking noises.

"She's hungry, Hannibal. Have you made breakfast?" Will came out of the bathroom, clad only in a towel and boxers. Hannibal ogled.

"When have I not made breakfast?" Hannibal huffed, following his lover out into the dining room.

"Smells delicious!" Will sat down in his place and started eagerly spooning eggs into his mouth. "Give some to Sofia, Hannibal."

Hannibal sat down, and tried to place Sofia in the leather-backed mahogany chair next to him. She slid down, again and again, and Will sighed impatiently.

"Put her on your lap, Hannibal."

Hannibal gingerly placed Sofia on his lap, and closed his eyes in a silent prayer that the baby would not commit any bodily functions while she was sitting on him.

"Eat, baby." Hannibal handed her the fork, which promptly slid out of her grasp, sliding to the floor. She began wailing hideously again, screaming for sustenance.

"Will, what do babies eat?"

 

_"Mama, why does Mischa get to eat mushy food and veggies?"_

_"She has no teeth, see, so she can only drink milk and mushy foods. Do you want to try some, Hannibal?"_

_"No, Mama. But I drink milk too, don't I?"_

_"Yes, but Mischa's milk is special milk for babies."_

_"Did I get special milk when I was a baby?"_

_"Of course, Hanni. You got the specials for everything."_

 

"How should I know? Aren't you wise and learned?"  Will shot back, alarmed at the volume of the baby screaming.

"Will,if it starves, then there is no use that I wasted my night's sleep."

"Why don't we ask someone?" Will suggested, taking Sofia from Hannibal. He seemed ready to crush her.

"Who will you ask, Will? Why don't you call Jack Crawford and ask him what a baby eats?"

"No, Hannibal. You call Alana." WIll explained, shushing the baby, and rocking it.

Three rings and one horrible screech of a ringtone later, Alana picked up the phone.

"Hello, Hannibal? What is it?"

"Alana, what does an infant eat?" Hannibal cut straight to the point, terrified that he might start weeping and begging for herto take him away from this extreme nuisance.

"...a baby?" Alana wondered. "Why do you even want to know, Hannibal?"

Hannibal cupped his hand over the receiver so she wouldn't hear.

"WILL! She's asking why? I do not want enquiries about this child! WHat should I tell her?"

"Umm... ummm say we adopted her! Lots of gay couples do that, you know, adopt kids."

"Do you not have a less ridiculous excuse?"

"Tell her we found it at night on our doorstep, and see how many police officers she alerts, Hannibal." Will said dryly, tossing Sofia up and down.

Hannibal spoke into the receiver again.

"We adopted her. A baby girl,from an Eastern European orphanage." Hannibal lied smoothly.

Alana let out a small squeak.

"With _Will_?" she exclaimed, before guffawing with laughter. "I didn't know you two wanted kids!"

"Well, it seems we do." Hannibal never hated lying this much before. _Wanting children_ , for God's sake. His reputation.

"Do you guys even know anything about babies?"

"No. Please, enlighten us, I beg." Hannibal tried to pour sarcasm into his voice.

"Well, how old is she?"

Hannibal did some quick calculation, judging by the child's features.

"She is five months old. Slightly small, I suppose."

"Try to get lots of powdered milk formula, some baby food, I reccomend Gerber, make sure the ages are right. Do you have clothes?"

"No. Apart from whatever she is wearing at the moment."

"Well, get her lots of clothes, _make sure_ they're the right size. She'sonly five months old, right?"

"More or less." Hannibal grunted.

"Well, don't get her a pram yet, get one of those things you can strapto your chest to carry her. What'sher name?" Alana's voice simpered, the woman inher peeking out.

"Sofia." Hannibal said in a monotone.

"Sofia Lecter?" Alana cooed, almost crying with excitement.

"I suppose."

"All right, don't be afraid to ask for help in the store, I _know_ you, okay?"

"Right. Will and I are grateful for your help."

"Okay, say hey to Will and Sofia to me. I'll come around to see her soon, I bet she's a precious little cutie patootie..."

"Goodbye."

Hannibal put down the phone and sighed inwardly at the sight of WIll tossing the child up and down. Sofia seemed to have forgotten her hunger, and was now laughing contentedly, showing an expanse of pink gum. Hannibal seemed to take ages in bundling both of them into his rather expensive car, before settling into the driver's seat before he realised he had no idea where to go.

Half an hour later later, they stopped infront of BabyMall,

"Will,get out and buy her supplies please."

"You've got to come! I'll buy the wrong stuff!" Will complained,dragging Hannibal ourtof the car by his arm.

BabyMall was enormous, the ceiling seeming to stretch high above them, depicting a leering mural of a mother and baby, as floors and floors of baby merchandise loomed above them seeming to engulf them. Sofia giggled softly, tugging on Will's hair. Hannibal strode toward the help desk, remembering what Alana had told him.

"Are you here with your wife, sir?" The Help Desk Man seemed to have a rather too large grin, reminding Hannibal of children making leery smiles with orange peels, but white.

"I am here with my partner. I want to buy supplies for a five month old baby girl, starting with food and clothes."

"RIght, could we see the child? We just want to stamp her hand so you can drop her in the infants playpen off to the right."

"Will?" Hannibal called.

"Where's the playpen?" Will bounded eagerly behind Hannibal, bouncing Sofia softly. "...wow its crowded." He wrinkled his nose.

Hannibal's lips curled in disgust.

"Our child will not play in that extremely common area. Could you please direct us to where we can find supplies for the girl?"

"Floor Two." The Help Desk Man's 500 megawatt smiled decreased slightly. "Food, accesories, and clothes."

Will carried her up on the esclalator while Hannibal followed close behind. Will, although he wouldn't expect Hannibal to ever say it, knew the man was feeling protective over the child. So soon, he chuckled inwardly. Floor two was a vast enterprise, stacked with toys, clothes and bottles of baby foods. The entire floor shone with cleanliness, and at last, Will's lover seemedto be appeased that the place wasn't too common.

"First, we'll get food." Will strode over to the area stocked with baby food. "Do you think she'll like pureed beans? Maybe some mashed potato? Would you like potato, Sofia?" he cooed to the baby. "What about mushed carrots and lemon juice? Wow, these sound really unappetising, don't they?" Will pondered.

Hannibal brought over an extra large size of baby milk formula as well as a small set of bottles and nipples. "I selected the most expensive brand. Maybe it would stop her from getting faeces on my linens."

The realisation seemed to strike both of them at once.

"Diapers!"

In fifteen minutes, Hannibal and WIll threw as many diapers as they could into their trolley (Will adjusting Sofia repeatedly in the crookof his arm). Clothes and that odd contraption in which you strap a baby to your chest was alos bought, after Hannibal made Will swear on his life that Hannibal would never have to wear it, not even once.

"Do you want to buy a boob?" Will pointed to a contraption designed for single fathers, a silicon breast connected to a pump.

"Will."

"Yes Hannibal?"

"We have managed this far with one breast between us. We will do perfectly well like that." Hannibal sighed.

"Whose breast is that?" Will's eye twitched.

"As always, my dear Graham, yours." Hannibal put his arms on the trolley and stretched. "Do you think the infant needs toys?"

" _Yes!_ " Will almost wanted to die, he didn't think of it first. "Lots of toys!"

"Maybe one."

"What about this one?" Will picked up a horrible tiger doll, with about a kilogram of fur on it.

"No. Try this." Hannibal shoot a rattle next to his ear, seemed pleased with the sound, and threw it in the trolley.

Will didn't really like rattles, but why the hell would he disagree when right infront of him, Hannibal Lecter, M.D. was shaking a rattle.

Sofia gurgled softly.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT CHAPTER: Alana, Jack and everyone else come to see the little burden of joy. PLUS: More Hannibal/Sofia daddydaughter bonding <3 But please,guys,leave comments, they make me truly happy <3


	3. Fever and Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alana, Jack and the Forensic Sassy Science Team visit to see Sofia. And Hannibal contemplates orphanages, and a Lithuanian lullaby.

“You feed her, I’ve mixed the formula, it’s on the table there, all right?”

“On _my_ countertop, which costs more than your childhood home you mean?”

It’s been a week and a half since a crying, red faced burden of joy was deposited on their doorstep. Six of Hannibal’s silk sheets were destroyed, yet Will smiled internally with each shit-stained sheet he watched, because Hannibal was the one who insisted that they wrap her in the very thousand-count sheets instead of cheap scratchy children’s ware.

“Coo…” Sofia gurgled, grinning gummily at Hannibal, a milky smile, that actually brought one to Hannibal’s frosty lips. He quickly wiped it off his face, lest Will should see him, but he was too slow, since Will _did_ see him, only that he didn’t speak. It would be filed away in his vast memory, filed away with the other rare times Hannibal actually managed to be _cute_.

“Hannibal?” Will called, busy mixing another dose of formula. “What should she call us?”

“She cannot speak yet, Will. I suppose she can’t call us anything.” Hannibal lifted the bottle back onto the table and sat Sofia upon a blue pushchair.

“No, I mean, in other families, they have Mama and Dada, but for us, we’re both men, aren’t we?”

“Are we?” Hannibal chuckled. “You can be Mama. She could call you Mummy when she’s older, and tell the children on the playground you ail from hirsutism.”

“I’ll be Dada.” Will demanded, grinning toothily at Sofia, who kicked her legs out at him. “Da-da, I’m Da-Da!” Sofia giggled wetly.

“What does that leave me as? Can she pronounce Hannibal?” Hannibal bent down to the child’s level. “Ha-nni-bal. Lec-ter.”

“Hannibal, no. She’s five months old. She’ll not say Hannibal for another two years. What about Daddy?”

“That is too disgustingly similar to Da-da, and since she would end up wanting me more, I suppose I should get a more distinctive name. What about Papa?”

“She’ll like _me_ more, okay?”

This could have blown up into domestic quarrel,  but Alana Bloom fortunately had the timing of a four year old, and the phone rang shrilly as Hannibal rose to get it, and Will practised saying Papa, and Dada to Sofia, who didn’t seem to want to co-operate.

“Alana?” Hannibal enquired. “Yes?”

“Hannibal! I’m five minutes away! We’re coming to see Sophie!”

“Sofia. And who is this _we_  you fondly mention?”

No answer.

“WILL!” Hannibal sounded alarmed, and Will quickly looked up from the baby. “Alana is coming over in five minutes. Can you please clean up the countertop, her breakfast is strewn all over the place.”

“Okay, Hannibal, you keep an eye on her, and _oh my God,_ pick the bottle up of the floor, that is gross!” Will wrinkled his face in disgust.

Sofia watched the men running around, kicking her chubby feet up. She tried to stuff one of them into her mouth as Hannibal picked up two stray bottles off the floor gingerly and laid it next to Sofia. She raised her arms, and made an indistinguishable noise. Hannibal stared at the child.

“Not now, Sofia.” He chided her, turning his back. “I’ve got to clean up the mess you’ve made.” He turned back around and her arms were still up, her eyes wider.

Hannibal heaved a sigh. His life was so much easier before this. It was literally kill, cook, eat, feed other people. Then, it became kill, cook, feed Will, have sex with Will. And now, unfortunately, it was wake up at two, feed Sofia, change Sofia, feed Will, have sex with Will, make sure Sofia is in the next room.

“Only once, I do not want to spoil you.” Hannibal picked her up and she sat contentedly on his arm, her head lolling down to look at the Baby-Gro Will was picking up from across the room.

“Baaaaa…” she gurgled, pulling on Hannibal’s carefully waxed hair.

“No, it’s apparently Papa. _Pa-pa._ And you better say that before you say Da-Da, otherwise you aren’t as learned an infant as I hoped you were.” Hannibal flashed another rare, wolfish smile at Sofia, and unfortunately, Alana broke the moment again, this time ringing the doorbell as loud as she could.

“Hello!” She shrieked, stepping in, and catching sight of Hannibal with an adorable baby girl in pink, with light blue eyes and dark hair, pulling on his hair.

“Look who I’ve brought to see little Sofia!” Alana cooed, ushering in Brian, Beverly, Jimmy, and hulking behind them, Jack Crawford, trying not to smile at the sight of Will holding a duster and a child’s toy.

“Alana, didn’t you say you were coming? Not the entire department?” Will laughed, setting down the items he was holding.

“Is this her? Hello, Sofia Lecter!” Beverly took the child from Hannibal and peered eagerly at her, before handing her to Alana.

“You sure it’s a girl?” Brian quipped, snorting at the horrified look on Price’s face when he accepted the baby.  “I mean you shouldn’t count on Will to tell genders, he usually messes it up, you see?” He accepted the baby and grinned at her.

“She’s so pretty!” Alana gushed to Will.

“Yeah, that’s why we can tell Will hasn’t contributed any genes to her.” Beverly cracked dryly. “So where did you get her, Hannibal?”

“An orphanage. We made the booking a while ago. in Bulgaria.”

“What’s she going to call you guys?” Jimmy asked, waving a finger infront of the child’s face, watching as she cooed and tried to catch it.

“I’m Dada. Hannibal wants to be Papa.” Will explained. “It’s quite hard since we’re both men.”

“Well, Will says he is.” Hannibal said, sarcastically. “He hasn’t really done much to prove the theory.”

Alana nuzzled Sofia’s face as she grinned contentedly, blowing bubbles. “Can you say Lana?” she asked Sofia. “Laaa-na.”

“Aaaa…” Sofia enunciated as she stretched her legs out.

“She hasn’t begun to speak yet.” Will laughed. “She will soon, though.”

“And I fear for my ears at that unfortunate moment in time.” Hannibal took Sofia from Alana and sat her down in her push chair. “We’re trying not to spoil her.” He explained, tucking the blankets in beside the baby. “We don’t want her to become mollycoddled and dependant.”

Alana smiled, not entirely because of Hannibal’s analogy, but to see the two of them hovering over the baby.

“Well, we’ll be off, then.” Jimmy said, waving goodbye, and tripping over the door. “See you soon, Will.”

“Yeah, bye.” Will said, going back to the table.

As if by cue, Sofia started caterwauling the moment the guests went out of the door, her face screwing up in tears. Will winced and dropped the bottle, she was crying so intensely.

“Does she have gas?” Will inquired of his lover, intrigued at the way the kid was screaming the house down.

“I am not checking, not after last time.” Hannibal tried hard to disguise the note of alarm in his monotone.

Will ran to her and picked her up, and started bouncing her in his arms, which usually stopped her screaming, but apparently not today, as Sofia seemed not to notice the extra attention and went on screaming. Will lay her on her stomach and patted her, thinking it was a trapped air bubble, but still, Sofia cried. Hannibal actually came over from the vegetables he was chopping delicately to look at her. He lay a finger on her forehead, and then checked it with his own temperature.

“She has a temperature.” He announced, laying aside the dishcloth. “Wet a cloth in cool water, and sponge her over with it. And then try to get her to sleep, she’s too young to take much medicine.”

“Is it really high?” Will asked, alarmed.

“Not really, but I suppose it is severe for an infant. It should be able to go away on its own, but in the meantime, sponge her with cold water, make sure her nostrils are clear if they aren’t already.” Hannibal turned back to the vegetables, frowning. Will picked up the child and took her to the en-suite bathroom, laying her down on the little bathtub purchased especially for her. Removing her wrap, he started sponging her in cool water, regardless of her indignant crying. She must be freezing, he thought, his empathy tickling for her. After a short sponge bath, he quickly wrapped her up and brought her to the kitchen, where Hannibal carefully crushed some BabyTylenol and mixed it thoroughly with the night’s feeding of milk.

Will took her into the bedroom to feed and sleep, and Hannibal sat down on the recliner, contemplating. It had been ten days since the child came to stay with them, and Will was already attached to her, looking after her every need. It was most inconvenient, especially where there were rude people to be killed, meat to be packed, and he couldn’t do it when there was a baby in the house. He picked up his Rolodex and flipped through, and found the number of an orphanage, Happy Feet Home For Children. Hannibal ignored the fact that a home with a capital H was never a home, and dialled the number.

“Hello, this is Dr. Hannibal Lecter---“

“Hannibal, she isn’t sleeping!” Will called from the other room. “Could you try again while I go have a quick dinner.”

Hannibal hissed and put down the phone. He stalked into the bedroom and took Sofia from Will. The girl wasn’t crying anymore, but her face had that dry, glazed look Hannibal had seen a million times. Fever. He felt her forehead, and judged that her fever had gone up slightly, in spite of the Tylenol. He closed his eyes in annoyance.

“It would be a nuisance if you succumb to fever, you know. I have to give you away in top condition.” Hannibal told the baby. “Happy Feet is a top class establishment. They’ll take children your age, and even younger.”

Sofia stared at him, and kicked her foot weakly. Hannibal started pacing up and down, hoping the movement would lull the child to sleep.

“It seems like your mother won’t come for you.” He told her, cruelly, even though she wouldn’t understand. “That’s fine, since Will and I are going to put you in a wonderful Home.” Again, he ignored the acrid taste of the capital H.

Sofia still only stared, her eyes bright, her mouth opening in a pink grin.

“Sleep” Hannibal told her. “It’ll do you good, make sure the fever dissipates.”

And still, Sofia’s eyes remained wide open, blinking once or twice.

Hannibal closed his eyes in annoyance.

_“Mama, Mischa’s not sleeping.”_

_“Babies take a while to sleep, Hannibal.”_

_“Why is that? I sleep really quickly, if she wasn’t crying.”_

_“Because, Hannibal, angels whisper secrets to little babies. And sometimes the secrets are so interesting, they don’t want to sleep.”_

_“Did I get to know any secrets?”_

_“Yes you did.”_

Hannibal would rather die than sing a cheap, English nursery rhyme to the child, as Will did every night, one of those odd rhyming tunes about buying mocking birds and twinkling stars. He wondered if someone would sing cheap English rhymes, and odd American poems at night at the Home. And it was with this thought that he began to whisper to the baby. It wasn’t singing, not at all, but the words were there, and Sofia could hear them, and honestly, that’s all that mattered.

“ _Vilkai staugia į tamsiausią naktį_ “  He whispered to the child, rocking her softly. It was, after all, one last night, was it not?

 _“_ _Kaip_ _genys stebisi, kodėl jis turi Peck medienos,  
Ir katės verkti, nes jie turėjo“ _ he explained the song, softly, as if he was chanting the words, and not singing, which he wasn‘t. __  
„Ir šunys žievė, nes tai, ką jie turėjo padaryti,  
Ir žmonės, skauda, ir žmonės šypsena, ir žmonės stebisi, kodėl,  
Jie turi elgtis taip, kaip visi daro.  
Bet jūs, mano vaikas, mano saldus, jūs tiesiog miegoti,  
Kadangi jūs esate mano ir aš tavo, ir jūs neturite daryti,  
Viskas, ką jūs nenorite“

And by the end of the whispered tale, she was fast asleep, her head lolling on Hannibal‘s shoulder. Hannibal layed the child on the cot ($300, expensive leather) and touched her forehead once, making sure she wasn‘t burning up (she wasn‘t). He went out of the room, treading softly, not wanting her to wake up again, and he would have to repeat the whole disgraceful process.

Will was waiting outside, smiling sort of triumphantly, his grin spilling over the edges.

“You should teach me that in English, you know?” he said, smirking.

“I would rather die.” Hannibal muttered.

Will sat down infront of him, and put his hands on the man’s shoulders. “You’re doing brilliant. What is it about, anyway?” He leaned in to kiss his lover, hard and strong.

“It’s about how you don’t have to conform.” Hannibal explained, kissing every inch of Will’s face, or trying to. Will laughed against Hannibal’s cheek.

“That’s what we are, right Hannibal?” he laughed softly. “Non-conformists?”

And again, the phone rang, breaking what would only have turned into an intense session on the couch, but it wasn’t dear Alana this time, it was an unknown number.

“Hello, Dr. Lecter?”

“Yes? Who is this?” Hannibal replied curtly, not at all pleased at being interrupted.”

“This is the Happy Feet Children’s Home. We had a call from you a while ago? We wondered if it was about adoption or do you want to drop a child off?”

“No. I dialed the wrong number. Accidentally.”

Accidents happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right so yeah, another cheesefest ok.   
> But if you wanted to know the lyrics in Englis to the lullaby thing, here it is.   
> BUT I MADE IT UP OK. NO SUCH LULLABY EXISTS OK  
> \---  
> The wolves howl in the darkest night,  
> As the woodpecker wonders why it has to peck wood,  
> And the cats cry because they had to,  
> And dogs bark because that’s what they had to do,  
> And people hurt, and people smile, and people wonder why,  
> They have to do as everyone does.  
> But you, my child, my sweet, you just sleep,  
> Because you’re mine and I’m yours and you don’t have to do,  
> Anything you don’t want to.   
> \----  
> Yes its shit but I came up with it in like 5 minutes k  
> Anyway, please please do leave comments and such? I'll love you 5ver


	4. First Words and Lengthy Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sofia begins speaking her first words, but when a letter arrives from her actual mother, Hannibal has to make a quick decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got a piece of art/photomanip used in this chapter, and it was done specially for this story by [ xEatxThexRudex ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/xEatxThexRudex/pseuds/xEatxThexRudex) and I'd like to thank her a LOT. The link to the work is here. [ Click This ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/894101)
> 
> OK NOW READ MY WORK OK

Will woke to Sofia tugging on his hair, wordless noises emanating from her mouth, probably claiming for her beloved powdered milk. Will yawned and placed Sofia on his chest and let her pull on his nose for a while whilst he silently cursed Hannibal for never taking the night feeds. The man apparently valued his sleep. Will grinned at his pseudo-daughter. It had been five months since the baby had been deposited unceremoniously on their shared doorstep, and the men had worked out a routine between them.

Will would wake and feed Sofia, then head off to teach at his FBI post, whilst Hannibal adjusted his patients hours to make sure Sofia got her day feeds as well as the attention she craved from both men. It was an okay routine, although waking up at night to feed the child left Will with lesser nightmares, and Hannibal, although he didn’t stop his restless murder of the rude, had stopped bringing them home, for fear of accidentally feeding them to Sofia (who was beginning to like mushed meat quite well). And causing some cannibalism related disease to an infant was not really what he wanted, since he quite respected the child.

“Okay Sofia, Hannibal’s not going to wake up anytime soon,” Will deduced, looking at his lover who was sprawled out on the bed next to him, silk nightshirt tightly closed at the neck, since only two days ago had Sofia suddenly become enamoured with chest hair and yanked out a handful, waking the sleeping man with a bloodcurdling cry Will had never heard from his cool, collected lover. (“Well, at least she knows she takes what she wants.” Will had said to a disgruntled Hannibal, who was muttering about how he would shave his entire torso and never let the child near him). He didn’t but always kept his shirt tightly closed since then.

“So, do you want milk? Or do you want your gross baby food?” Will wrinkled his nose and laughed as Sofia did the same. “I know its terrible but Hannibal still refuses to let you eat solid food, and there’s you with so many teeth, isn’t there?” Will wasn’t so happy with the teeth last week though, when Sofia took a painful snap out of his shoulder. It was Hannibal who laughed then and complimented Sofia on her extraordinary palate, but reprimanded her that Will was his, and his only to bite.

“Sweet treats it is, then. We don’t want to smell mushed peas so early.” Will hoisted Sofia out of the room and sat her on his shoulders. “Don’t tell Papa that I take you on my shoulders, he’ll never let me touch you again.”

He sat her down on her high chair and placed a small bowl of crushed bananas and honey in front of her. He handed her a spoon, not that she would use it to good sense, but that she would be entertained, and not spit out _that_ much at Will.

“Paaaa….” Sofia stabbed Will in the eye with the plastic spoon, and it bounded off his glasses harmlessly, leaving a streak of banana.

“Open up,” Will told her, before sticking the spoon into her mouth. “I’ve got to go to work for two hours today, so you should be okay with Papa, even though he’d probably leave you on the floor with the iron on again.”

“Paaa…” Sofia tried, stretching her hands out toward the door of the dining room. “Paa….pa.”

Will’s eyes widened. “Did you just say what I think you said?” His face split open in a wide grin, showing endearingly wide teeth.

“Papa…” Sofia babbled again, reaching her arms toward the door, laughing and kicking her feet.

Will spun around, smile still on his face.

 

_“Anniba.”_

_“Mama, Mischa just said my name!”_

_“Oh, Hannibal, really dear?”_

_“Anniba!”_

_“See, see? She said it!”_

_“Wow, she did! That’s so good, Mischa!”_

_“I was first! My name was first!”_

_“Well, your name is the hardest to say and she said it first! She must love you lots, Hannibal.”_

In the door was lover and cannibal extraordinaire, Hannibal Lecter, clad in a dressing gown and delicately mussed hair and a two day growth of beard on his face (owing to him hiding his own razors for fear a little someone might cut herself with them.)

“Did you hear what she just said?” Will asked excitedly. “Did you hear that?”

Hannibal tried to be practical.  “All children will start to speak, I didn’t think she was mute, Will.”

“Oh come on, she said her first word!” Will laughed. “She said it!”  

Hannibal merely smiled and raised his eyebrows before heading to the coffee pot. “And soon, she’ll say her second word, and her third word, and then all her words. You must get a huge diary to record all of them.”

“Oh haha, very hilarious. Look, I’ll make the coffee, you pick her up, she said your name for crying out loud.” Will kissed Sofia (who deposited a smudgy kiss back) and sauntered off to the coffee maker, leaving Hannibal to pick up his burden of joy.

“So you’ve started speaking, have you now?” Hannibal inquired of her, picking her up and dangling her in front of his face. “I hope you won’t talk too much, now.”

“Papa!” She laughed and kicked him. “Pa...pa.”

Hannibal, despite himself found himself laughing out loud. All babies speak, he knew, but not all of them said “Papa”, and out of those who did, only one was directed to Hannibal. And so he laughed with Sofia, and actually kissed her snub nose.

“Well, you’re getting really talkative, aren’t you?” He chuckled, laughing and kissing her again (he would kill _two_ people to make up for this slip in his mask).

“Well, look what’s happening when I’m away. I though you only kissed me, Hannibal?” Will sauntered in, a patronizing smirk and a camera dangling by a strap on his wrist.

“Daii!” Sofia shrieked, reaching for the camera excitedly. “Daii!”

“Two words in one day!” Will was beside himself. “ _Two words,_ Hannibal!”

“Come let us start consulting the dictionary and mark off whatever she said.” Hannibal grinned dryly.

“Daii!” Sofia yelled, trying to reach the camera, which Will was placing on the countertop next to them. 

“I suppose you are now, Daddy, then.” Hannibal contemplated. “Well, I suppose it could be worse.”

“Don’t be weird, it couldn’t be better!” Will posed next to Hannibal and grinned.

“Smile at the camera, for God’s sake, Hannibal, the timer goes off in ten seconds.”

“Will, I am not dressed for a photograph. Do you see this stubble? Did you see the beard on my face, Will, when you set the camera up?”

_Ten, nine._

“You shouldn’t have hidden your razor where you can’t find them yourself. You can borrow mine later.”

_Eight, seven._

“This is you trying to sabotage my standing as the more attractive among us, Will. I can see you.”

_Six, Five._

“Shut up and smile, Hannibal. Everyone knows I’m cute. You have to _try._ Now smile for once.”

_Four, three._

“Daii…Papa!”

_Two, one._

_FLASH._

_ _

Hannibal deposited a sleeping Sofia in her cot, and wandered to the door, stretching. His last patient Mrs Zuckerman, was an extremely droning woman, and he almost literally  fell asleep, only correcting herself because that would be terribly rude. She didn’t even need therapy, only came along to whinge to the handsome (finally clean shaven) doctor about her ex-husband and his dog, or whatever.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t rude.

He sauntered over to the mail slot, and noticed an envelope that wasn’t clearly sealed with the seal of either the FBI or a Psychiatrist Association. Hannibal shuffled through the bills for the scientific journals, Will’s odd forensic magazines and some guides on how to build a playpen. He took the oddly normal envelope out and sat heavily on his recliner, noticing the way their address was handwritten in an awkwardly familiar hand. Hannibal wondered who was writing to Will, since there was absolutely zero possibility someone would write to him on such a terrible, non-printed envelope. He slit the letter open.

_To the men in 3A Elgerton, Baltimore,_

_My name is Mel, I hope you remember me as the person who left my five month old child on your doorstep. I hope you have taken as good care of her as I would like to have done, but now I have received tenacy in the South of England, and have found a legitimate relationship, and my life is going steady._

_It is because of these circumstances that I now can relieve you gladly of the burden I have placed upon you. I myself cannot leave England at the moment, due to visa problems and such, so I am sending my fiancée, Thomas Johnson to meet you at Baltimore Airport, Maryland. He will be under a transit rule and thus can’t leave the airport. Will you please take my child and deliver her to him at the airport? His name is Thomas Johnson, he has thinning blonde hair and a small scar on his forehead. I’ve told him to look out for two men holding a child._

_He will arrive on the seventh of June, at 1904 hours._

_Thank you so much for taking care of my baby until now,_

_Yours Gratefully,_

_Mel_

Hannibal felt a strong surge sweep through him. Relief, he thought. That was what it was. Relief at how he wouldn’t have to wake up to restless crying every night.  Relief at not having to spend money on diapers and baby food, and new blankets. Glad relief at not having to eat his…meat secretly in hotel rooms, and relief at having to get his hours the same again. He tried to think of Sofia in England.

They wouldn’t call her Sofia. They would give her some other name, and she wouldn’t respond to it.

_“Papa…Dai!”_

She would call her new parents that, wouldn’t she? Or would she quickly learn how to say “mother” and “father”? Hannibal felt a sweep of anger toward this irresponsible Mel. Did she know how Sofia liked Nestle milk, instead of PediaSure? Did this Mel know how her own daughter liked to kick her feet to lullabies at night? Did Mel know how Sofia would eat carrots, but only when they were pureed, instead of mushed? Did Mel know how to tickle Sofia on the spot only Will knew how to tickle? Would they make her sleep at night without her nightly Cerlac cereal?

Hannibal felt another surge of fury toward Mel. If she was in Baltimore, he would head straight over, and make sure the Chesapeake Ripper struck again. But then again, he wouldn’t have to keep up to incessant crying, and since she was beginning to talk, incessant baby babble? That would be Mel’s job. It would be Mel’s job to clean up her daughter’s bottom, after a particularly nasty accident. Mel would be the one she spat food on and bit. Mel would have to lay awake at night as Sofia (who wouldn’t be Sofia anymore) teethed and gurgled. Mel would be the victim of all the awkward questions the baby would ask, growing up.

Hannibal got up from his chair and headed over to the second floor, and sat in stony silence among the leather of the expensively bound books. He looked at the letter again, and hoped Sofia (not Sofia) would ruin all of Mel’s books if she had any. His hand shook slightly as he realised that the seventh of June was today. Post was slow, wasn’t it? Thomas would be arriving at the airport in two hours.

He took a pair of scissors from the bookshelf and looked at the letter one last time. Then he put the scissors back on the shelf.

“If you cannot take care of a child.”

He tore the paper in half.

“You will not have a child.”

He tore it in quarters.

“And if you do, you will not leave it with strangers.”

He tore it in eights, a vicious look on his face.

“And if you leave it for strangers, you will not ask for it back.

He stormed down the ladder, the pieces of paper in his hand.

“Because these _strangers_ might not want to give up your child.”

He stood infront of the fireplace, lighted it.

“They might have _liked_ it.”

He threw the paper into the fire.

“They might have liked it too much.”

The letter burned quietly.

Hannibal got up, sated, and headed toward Sofia’s cot. She was standing up in it, clinging to the bars and grinning up at Hannibal.

“Aaa…. Papa.” She crinkled her face at him and tried to tick him through the bars of the cot.

“You’re ours now.” He told her, shortly. “You’re our child now.”

She gurgled quietly.

“You’re _mine._ ” He whispered furiously.

“Main!” shrieked Sofia, laughing at the new word.

Will arrived home at eight o’ clock, only to find Sofia playing with her toys on the carpet, and Hannibal sitting at his desk, his face drawn.

“Hello, Sofia.” He kneeled down to her and received a wet kiss, and blew a raspberry on her stomach.

“Hey, got a headache or something? Annoying patient?” Will asked of his lover. “You look sort of pissed. Or did Sofia make you run around all day?”

Hannibal looked up at Will, and smiled.

“It’s nothing, and she was moderately good. Now, a letter came from Mel, a few hours ago.”

“Mel?” Will inquired, raising his eyebrows. “I didn’t know you were into women, Hannibal.” He chuckled, and kissed the doctor.

“No, Mel as in Sofia’s actual mother. The woman who put her at our door, remember?” Hannibal prompted.

Will dropped the coat he was holding and turned to face Hannibal, his face pale and wan.

‘What did she want?” he asked, weakly.

Hannibal smiled one of his rare, toothy grins at Will.

“She didn’t want her anymore.”  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah decisions decisions. Now, the "you're mine." "mine!' thing is actually gonna come into play in a sweet way later yay omg.   
> Okay, so you've got to (GOT TO!) give me ideas for the next chapter okay, please?   
> (Again, thanks to xEatxThexRudex for her lovely picture)


	5. Daddy DayCare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal and Will go about finding a daycare for Sofia, facing trials and mishaps along the way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, you guys should have some of this stuff after the sad bits in Chapter 4 k

“Hannibal, she’s not even three years old, you can’t put a kid that age into a school, it’s unheard of!” Will exclaimed at Hannibal’s suggestion, over a cup of coffee in the morning.

“Will, it isn’t _school_ there are such things as day-cares, if you haven’t heard of the term.” Hannibal speared a piece of bacon with his fork.

“Day care?” Will laughed sarcastically. “Hannibal, she once bit another kid because he took her toy, I don’t think she’s cut out for day-care until she’s at least six. Day-care, for God’s sake.”

“Day care!” Sofia squealed, trying to feed toast to the doll she was holding. “Dayyy…care.”

“Will, we’re both exceedingly busy at the moment, me with my patient, and you with this tooth fairy case. We cannot keep taking her to one of our jobs, its not done.” Hannibal looked at Sofia. _Besides, he was hankering for some human meat, and it couldn’t be done while Sofia was watching, could it?_ “Besides, she does want to go to day care, right, Princess?”

She made no response, except to hit Hannibal on the head with a piece of crumbly toast.

“Did she just…?” Will laughed. “Oh God, okay then, Hannibal. We’ll go look at day-cares today, okay?”

“Right, Will. You go put Sofia in some clothes fit for a first impression whilst I go…wash my hair. Again.” Hannibal muttered, raising himself from his chair. Will picked up Sofia and made her toddle to the living room while he gathered the plates. Day care should be fine, he thought, but he knew he was in for a long day when Hannibal reappeared, clad in a new suit and freshly washed hair, and holding on to at least fifteen different brochures and varied, vivid colours.

“May I please ask what that is?” Will tried mock politeness. If Hannibal was going to drag him off the fifteen day-cares, well, he wasn’t going.

“I have compiled a list of possible day-cares that are suitable for Sofia, personally, I think fifteen is too small a number. Perhaps we should increase it to twenty?”

“Twenty one! Twenty too! Twenty twee!” Sofia yelled from the next room, her hearing sharper than Hannibal’s nose.

“Hannibal, there is no way, no way we are going to go to fifteen day cares to see if they’re _suitable._ They’re day cares, there’s only so much suitability.”

“Well, maybe we could make it fourteen?” Hannibal inquired, the sunlight catching on his glass cheekbones.

“What about five? She’s _three,_ she won’t know if you put her in a cage and daycare.”

“She might pick up horrible…”

Will took one of the brochures from Hannibal and read it, his eyes popping and a twitch beginning to show in his temple.

“Hannibal, this daycare costs eight thousand dollars. Per semester. They have _uniforms._ Are you sending our three year old to an expensive military school?”

“Now, Will, St Swithins is an established organisation, and they’ve been respected in the country for many years.”

“Hannibal, nobody calls a daycare St Swithins. Okay, we’re going to rule out anything costing more than three thousand. Per year.”

Hannibal tossed aside four leaflets, glancing longingly at St Swithins.

“And the ones with uniforms, Hannibal, you know Sofia, she wouldn’t go near a uniform if it tickled her on her nose and told her it was Uncle Jack.” Will crossed his arms, as Hannibal tossed six more leaflets away.

Sofia toddled into the room, and looked curiously at the leaflets strewn on the floor, promptly picking one up and biting into it. “Daddy?” she looked up at Will, and handed him to soggy leaftet. “Ew.” She enunciated.

“…ew?” Hannibal’s lip curled in disgust. “You just bit into one of the most established and respected institutions in Maryland, and you cannot even enjoy the taste of it?”

“Soo, papa.” Sofia waved her hands at Hannibal. “Soo! Soo!”

Will laughed. “I’ll tie your shoes, darling. Hannibal has more leaflets to discard.”

“We have five now.” He muttered annoyedly. “I think we can cover five in a day, or is that too tough for Will’s darling feet?”

.

“Good morning, and welcome to the Larsen Institute of Childrens Arts. I take it your child is three years old?” The woman who greeted them had a huge bust, and skinny legs, and Will prayed that Sofia wouldn’t say anything too insulting.

“Actually, she’s nearly three. It’s three months to her birthday.” Will corrected, patting Sofia on her curls.

“Now, children normally enrol at this institute when they are two years old, however, we could make an exception for you as Dr Lecter is very much admired in the inner circle.” Will scoffed silently as the woman turned away. _Dr Lecter_ wouldn’t be that respected if they knew how long he took to style his hair every morning.

“Now, are you Sofia Lecter?” The woman bent down to Sofia and fixed her with a steely smile. “I’mm Mrs Haggerty.”

“Pincess.” Replied the girl, sticking out her tongue.

Hannibal hissed in annoyance.

“You _are_ Sofia Lecter, aren’t you?” The woman flashed Sofia a thin lipped smile.

“No! Pincess!” Even with the wrong pronounciation, the word was pretty obvious, as Mrs Haggerty spun around to face the men. “ _Princess_?” she bit out. “Are you telling me your child doesn’t know her own name?”

“No, no she knows it!” Will hastily amended. “She knows it very well, it’s just that Hannibal calls her Princess Sofia at times, and she can’t really let go of the nickname, it seems. Maybe you could call her Princess for a bit, maybe.”

Mrs Haggerty turned back to Sofia, as Will hissed angrily to Hannibal. _“I told you you shouldn’t call her something that’s not her name!_ ”

“ _It is her name, Will!”_  Hannibal hissed back. “ _It just had a word added to it, to boost confidence.”_

“You should not give a child a false idea of Superiority, Mr Graham and Dr Lecter. “ Mrs Haggerty snapped at them.

Hannibal bristled. “A _false_ sense of superiority, Mrs Haggerty?”

“Well, naturally a child should not be allowed to think she is better than the other children, should they? Now, let me give you a tour of the school.”

The men followed, Will clasping Sofia’s hand. “Be good, okay?’ Will whispered intensely to Sofia, who paid no attention and let go of his hand to skip ahead, poking at statues in the hallway.

“Are you sure this is a daycare, Hannibal?” Will whispered. “It seems too big, doesn’t it?”

‘It was one of the best, apparently.” Even Hannibal was starting to have reservations about the place.

“Now, around you, framed, you can see artworks that have been completed by the children. These are done by the age three to four category, one year above your sister. Will looked around at the beautifully framed childish representatives of Van Goghs and Picassos’, and stared, open mouthed.

“These are done by three year olds?” Hannibal asked, eyes narrowed.

“Why yes, I just mentioned it.”

“Piggie! Piggie!” Sofia noticed a painting of her liking and pointed to it, singing her favourite song. “Piggie, piggy, piggy! Piggy-pig-pig!”

“Hush, child!” Mrs Haggerty looked astonished. “That is a highly praised painting of _Leda and The Swan,_ done by one of our star students, Antonio Budge.”

Hannibal’s eye twitched and he quickly turned Sofia around to not look at the painting. “You let children draw Leda and The Swan?”

“Why of course, anything that fullfills their artistic capability.”

“Right. Maybe we will check back into the institution. We are definitely not looking at the moment.” Hannibal told Mrs Haggerty, brusquely. “Come Will, hurry up, _Princess.”_ He purposely  exaggerated the name, and walked out with Will, Sofia toddling behind.

“Hannibal, what’s Leda and The Swan?” Will whispered happily, as they tread back down the hallway.

“Will, remember the painting in my dining room? The large one, which we took down when Sofia turned two?” Hannibal prompted.

“Oh…oh God. The one with the swan licking the nude lady’s…oh. Oh.” Will wrinkled his nose. “Well, the children here aren’t even good artists, I thought it was a sideways vanilla ice cream.”

.

“Hello y’all and welcome to the McFawter’s Day Care Facility, our motto is to let kids have fun fun fun, all day long!” The man who opened the door was heavy and red haired, and Will could see a hunting gun hung up on the wall behind him, next to a pair of antlers and a bear head. “Now, you’re Lecter, and Graham, right?” He consulted a shabby piece of paper before nodding. “Yeah, you folks are ‘cumpny today, I’ll show you around the place, yeah?”

“I suppose that will do.” Hannibal raised his eyebrows.

“Now, what’s the name of little sweetie here?”

“Pincess.” Sofia declared firmly, as Will closed his eyes in dread.

“Okay then, Princess, hop on my back, and I’ll take you on a rip-roarin’ tour of our place, yeah?” The man heaved Sofia on his shoulders and took them to the first room, a bare hall with random coats and shoes strewn all over the place, and Sofia peered into the mirror, laughing. Will cracked a smile, the kid loved mirrors, and you actually couldn’t blame her for it. With her dark curls, and large, light blue yes and the smile that witched on and off, Sofia was the kind of kid people would pat on the street and smile at.

“Now, Lecter, what’s your Christian name eh, I can’t just call you Lecter, if we’re going to become buds!”

“…buds?” Hannibal asked, unfamiliar to the word being used in context with him.

“Yeah, all the kiddie parents are my buds!” The fat man explained, setting Sofia down, and holding her hand. “I’m John, by the way, John McFawter.”

“Hannibal Lecter, who would be pleased if you continue calling him Doctor Lecter.”

“Now, this room’s where all the kiddies at. We won’t go in just today, cause we want you to make friends on your first day, yeah?” John led them into another room, where there were drawings stuck messily on the walls, drawings that were comfortingly of safe topics, and gladly ugly enough to be the work of three year olds.

“Now, see this, kid drew his mummy and daddy, _and_ coloured it. We really appreciate coloring!” John nexplained to Will, who nodded. “Now, Princess,” He bent down to Sofia. “Can you draw your mummy and daddy for me?”

She shook her head determinedly.

“Aw, come on, everybody likes to draw, right?” John turned to the men. “Where _is_ the mummy, anyway?”

Hannibal and Will exchanged glances.

“There is no mother involved, Mr McFawster. We are fathering the child between us.” Hannibal explained in his clearest voice.

“Wait…you mean you’re both lookin’ after her? Like uncles?” John looked confused.

“No, we’re like her dads. Sofia’s got two dads.” Will interjected. “We’re the dads.”

“…so you lot are sayin’ that..” Realisation dawned on John’s face.

“Yes.”

“You lot homosexual?” John unconsciously wrinkled his nose, and Hannibal hissed in annoyance. John McFawster could be made into a steak and kidney pie very soon, and a large one at that.

“Is there a problem with that arrangement?” He asked coolly.

“..uh, no no, but uh, you see…” The man blustered, face turning red. “..um, the fact that you’re…gay and stuff…other kids and…not…”

“I think that will be all. We’re going to pursue a finer establishment, thank you for your time, and I hope you may change your views in the future.” Hannibal closed, walking out of the room. _If you don’t you’re ending up as beef stew minus beef,_ he didn’t add.

“I didn’t know there were such kind of people still, though.” Will wrinkled his nose at the antlers in the hallway. “I mean I thought people got over it and stuff.”

.

Three daycares later, Hannibal and Will slumped into the car, defeated. Sofia muttered to her doll at the back of the car, telling it about the other teachers, or whatever they had met. Hannibal wiped a sheen of sweat off his forehead. Daycare was a disaster. First there was the big-bosomed lady who insisted on no superior nicknames and allowed the children to indulge in pornographic ancient paintings. Then there was the incorrigible John Mcfawter and his narrow minded views on homosexuality. The third daycare, The HappyTots Kids Area seemed like a decent place, except Sofia had ruined their chances by telling the teacher she looked like a pig. Needless to say, she sang the piggy song. The fourth place was run by one man only, and the children were all extremely pretty, and had extremely terrified, sad expressions. They both felt the place wasn’t safe, and the fifth place had a child running around naked, with a tired old lady running to catch it. They hastily withdrew.

“We should look at some places tomorrow.” Hannibal decided, starting the car. “Maybe some that are further away.”

Will slammed his head against the seat. “Ugh, daycares.” He cursed.

“Daycare, daycare!” Sofia sang from the back, sucking on her doll’s hand. “Daddy, daycare!”

“Hush, princess, Papa’s trying to drive.” Hannibal shushed Sofia.

“Daddy, daycare! “ She sang again, but softer, excited about the new word.

Will slowly sat up, a smile growing on his face. “That’s it, Daddy DayCare!”

Hannibal turned toward him, hands on the wheel. “Is that a new institution?”

“No, no, we’ll do daddy day care, we’ll take care of her ourselves. Come on, Hannibal, we saw the places today, and they were apparently some of the best. We should do it. Daddy daycare, Sofia’s hit the nail right on the head!”

Hannibal huffed. He would have to wait a little more to cook his people freely, it seemed.

“Daddy day care it is, then.”

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, next chapter will be up tomorrow.  
> But please though, do leave comments, they make me very happy :'D


	6. The Fair!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal and Will take Sofia to the fair, and they lose her in the process, because after all, it is the Lecters we're dealing with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> QUESTIONS ANSWERED  
> YES Mel is going to make a comeback soon, but not too soon.  
> NO Hannibal and Will aren't gonna run a daycare, they'll just take care of Sofia  
> Now yeah, go on to this chapter, yay <3

"Hannibal, the fair is coming up tomorrow, you know that, right?" Will looked up from the dog he was grooming, over at his lover, who was doing pretty much the same to Sofia, trying to tame her curls into tie-able bunches. 

"I don't care, Will." Hannibal said abruptly. 

"I want to go fair." Sofia stated firmly. "I want to go fair."

Hannibal closed his eyes. Sighed. The three and a half year old was starting to get opinions for herself, and she was stubborn.

"Princess, do you know what a fair is?" Hannibal narrowed his eyes at her. 

"A fair is fun!" Will exclaimed, letting go of Winston, who bounded off to the next room. "Sofia, you'll love it!"

"I wan to go fair."  Sofia decided. 

"Sofia, princess..." Hannibal gritted his teeth. "A fair is filled with vile atrocities, monsters from bad dreams, diahorrea, consumption as well as even some typhoid and mad, angry hellhounds." 

"I want to see hellhound! Daddy, I want to go fair!" Sofia picked up her doll and turned to Will, her eyes big. "Daddy, lets go fair." 

"Ask your Papa." Will smirked, knowing they were going to get ready for the fair. Sure, Hannibal could out-ice any FBI agent, and give a frosty nosed stare that would send any rival psychatrist scuttering, but he seemed to not be able to resist Sofia. 

"Papa, lets go fair. Lets go fair now." Sofia's favourite word seemed to be want, like any other three year old.

"Will can take you to the fair. Will, take her to her fair, and cleanse her properly before you bring her home, I do not want common bacteria in here." Hannibal commanded, looking at Will. "Now, take her." 

"You're coming, you know." Will told his lover, raising his eyebrows. "Do you think I can look after her while we both pig out on junk food?" 

"I am not coming. I will never step foot into a fair, one of those dirty ones too, no doubt." Hannibal stated, making up his mind.

Will sighed, to hide his smirk.

"Sofia, Papa isn't going to come to the fair." Oh yes, Will could be sneaky when he liked. 

"PAPA!" Sofia shrieked, eyes wide. "PRINCESS SAYS YOU MUST COME FAIR!" She climbed on Hannibal's knee. 

"Come fair?"

"No, princess."

"Come fair."

"No."

"Come. Fair. Papa."

"No."

"Come fair."

"Fine, but I will not repeat this experience." Hannibal picked Sofia up and carried her to her room. "Get dressed then, princess Sofia. We're going to go to your filthy fair, and then we will never go again." 

Hannibal threw a dirty look at Will as they both went out of the room to get dressed themselves. They stepped into their room, which was still the elegant, large room it was three years ago, with the absence of shaving blades, and the odd appearance of stuffed toys strewn haphzardly around the place. Will quickly took off his shirt, and started rummaging for another one in the wardobe they shared. 

"What should I wear?" He asked Hannibal. 

"I don't know, there is a rather wide choice for you, isn't there? Plaid, or plaid?" Hannibal said nastily. 

"You know you can't wear a suit to the fair, right?" Will informed his lover, raising his eyebrows. "That isn't done you know?"

Hannibal took off his silk shirt and decorously placed it on the chair. "What do you suggest I do, Will?" 

Will traced a finger down Hannibal's chest. "You should come as you are. No shirt, just how I like it.", he said, huskily.  Hannibal growled softly in his throat and kissed Will, hard on the mouth running his hands through his hair. Will responded eagerly, his hands snaking through Hannibal's back roughly, as the doctor pushed him up against the wall and ground into him. "Did you say you wanted me to come shirtless?" he breathed into Will's ear, his voice a deep huff. He ground him harder into the wall, and prepared to undo Will's belt buckle.

"Ew." Sofia's voice interrupted from the doorway, with her second favourite word. "No kiss. Ew." 

Hannibal sprung off Will with the agility of a dancer, and twisted to face Sofia, who was standing there, with her hands on her hips, and pouting angrily. 

"Daddy no dress." Sofia went over to the cupboard, and picked up a shirt. "Daddy dress." She took up another shirt of Wills, ungodly plaid and handed it to Hannibal. "Papa dress."

Will laughed. "Look who has to wear my shirt..." he crooned delightedly. 

.

Hannibal felt like throwing up.

The fair smelt atrocious, honestly. The aroma of hot, fetid people crammed into a ten thousand square foot area, unwashed socks, puke from the roller coaster area, as well as the scent of junky, buttered, fatty popcorn, the incredibly vile dish with which Sofia and Will were stuffing their faces with.

“Will, you cannot feed Sofia such rubbish. It’ll upset her digestion.” Hannibal reprimanded, handing over money to the pimply fair attendant for tickets.

“Mff oodem opfut.” Will choked out behind a mouthful of popcorn.

Hannibal’s mouth curled in disgust.

“Relax, Hannibal, it’s not a problem.” Will swallowed his food, and grabbed Sofia’s hand. “Now, which ride do we want to go to first?”

“I am not going on any rides. I’m going to find a quiet corner and pursue newspapers, thank you very much.” Hannibal stated, preparing to turn away to find a shady spot to sit down.

“I wan that!” Sofia pointed to the largest ride of all, the extra large roller coaster, looping and hooping high over their heads. “I wan that one!” Sofia asked again, pointing. The roller coaster looked incredibly intimidating. Will gulped.

“Right Hannibal, that’s the one Sofia wants. Let’s go.”

“I am not moving from this spot.” Hannibal had decided. “You can go on the flimsy attraction and fall to your deaths if you like.”

“Oh, I get it now.” Will grinned. “Sofia, Papa’s scared to come on the ride.”

“Papa scared?” Sofia asked, eyes wide in surprise. “Scared?”

Hannibal’s eye twitched angrily.

“Fine. We’re going on that horrible ride. And after that’ I’m sitting down in my corner, and not moving.”

Will snorted, handing the ticket man their tickets. The cart of the coaster looked equally scary, as the seatbelts were no more than flimsy pieces of metal. Hannibal and Will settled Sofia between them, buckled her in too tightly, and held one of her hands each and told her that under no account was she to let go of their hands. Hannibal’s lips curled in disgust again, hoping nobody in the psychatrist circle would see him here. The cart gave a sudden jolt, as Will gave out a shout of laughter. It _was_ natural, he hadn’t been to a fair since he was seven. Neither had Hannibal, except Hannibal honestly didn’t want to go.

The roller coaster inched slowly up the tracks and came to a juddering stop at the peak, trying to scare the riders. “Wow, we’re rather high up, aren’t we?” Will laughed, nervously. “Sofia, are you scared?” he asked her.

“Clouds!” She would have pointed, but both her hands were busy being held.

The cart took off, with a groaning sound and to Will, it seemed like it was going at light speed, his hair flew behind him, and Sofia’s curls were bouncing as she squealed excitedly. The girl was obviously not afraid of heights, Will noted, as she laughed and jumped in the seat. Will let out a shout, since everybody was doing so anyway, and braced himself for the loop. Three loops later, the cart shuddered to a shaky stop at a platform.

“That was brilliant!” Will exclaimed. “Want to go again?”

“Again, again again!” Sofia squealed happily, and all of a sudden, her expression changed, as she noticed her left hand being held in a death grip. Will looked at Hannibal. He was sitting still, eyes closed tightly, bothe hands gripping the rail so tightly his knuckles turned white. Unfortunately, one of those hands were holding Sofia’s so the poor girl’s hand was turning red from the pressure.

“Papa, let go!” she squealed, almost crying.

Will suppressed a laugh.

“Hannibal, the ride is over. I think you should…um. Open your eyes, maybe?”

Hannibal’s eyes shot open, and shot a murderous look over to Will. His hands slowly unclenched (Sofia withdrawing hers in relief) as he got up, trying not to expel his gourmet lunch over his leather shoes.

“Well,” Will said superiorly as they climbed out of the cart. “I think _somebody_ , a certain doctor, if I should be exact, is terrified of heights. Hannibal death-glared at Will.

“You will never mention this to anyone. Ever. I will make sure you never speak again.”

Will snorted.

“Okay. I’ll just tell them to have the FBI Annual Dinner at the 100th floor of the Empire State Building, all right? Tell them to give us the window seat.” Will winked.

“I swear Will. One word.”

“Ha! Wait till Sofia gets the word ou that Papa’s scared of roller coasters.” Will smothered a laugh for fear of Hannibal’s wrath.

“Will?”

“What?”

“Where _is_ Sofia?” Hannibal asked, looking around.

“Shit!” Will cursed, looking around the place, where at every one moment, thousands of people milled about. Finding a three year old with quick legs was going to be hard.  “Where could she have gone?”

“Will, there are all sorts of people here. We have to retrieve her immediately.” Hannibal snapped, eyes widening.

“Okay, um, you take the entire left side, and I take the entire right side. We’ll meet back here in half an hour, we’ll find her for sure.” Will’s voice rose in panis, his hands twitching. “We’ve _got_ to.”

“We will.” Hannibal said shortly, pacing briskly, his head spinning, looking for a pink dress and curly, dark hair. He felt something climb into his throat, and he recognized the unfamiliar touch of panic creeping up his neck, ice cold.

“Where could you be, Princess?” he whispered angrily.

He walked for twenty minutes and finally lost his cool, marching up to the nearest security guard.

“Connect me to the FBI station, _immediately_.” He snapped at the teenager. “I wish to make a missing persons report.”

“W-what?” The kid had signed up to get free candy and a bit of money. What was the sharply dressed coot with the cheekbones talking about FBI? “S-sorry, but umm…”

“Connect. Me. To. The. FBI. Now.” Hannibal imagined the boy would make into a very good chicken soup, or at the least he figured he could just throw him alive into a lake.

“Um, sir…” The boy sputtered, scared now. “Who’s been kidnapped? How long?”

“My child, Sofia Lecter, aged three years and seven months, about two and a half feet tall, dark haired, blue eyed. Missing for twenty three minutes and counting. I hope you will relay this to the FBI immediately.” Hannibal said sharply.

The boy snorted. “Sir, um…I can’t exactly tell the FBI just cause y’all lost your kid at the local fair for twenty minutes. Sorry sir, you’re just gonna have to look like everybody else.”

Hannibal’s hands twitched, itching to make a quick snap of the pimply boy’s neck, but he held it in.

Will came running up to join him, his hair sweaty and disheveled, his eyes wide in panic. “She isn’t there, Hannibal! I searched the entire bloody place, she isn’t here! Have you found her?”

“No I have not.” Fear made Hannibal rude, as well as Will. “The incredibly incompetent service here isn’t helping.”

“Shit, shit, shit!” Will cursed alarmedly. “What can we do?”

“Inform Ja---“

“I _wan_ that pony!” a high-pitched voice squealed out of nowhere. “I _wan_ pony NOW!”

Usually, when Hannibal heard to words want, and now in one sentence from Sofia, he usually shook his head, frowned and said a firm no. This time, both of them took off at a run to the are from which the voice seemed to echo from. Sofia was standing next to the stables, arguing loudly with the stablehand, who seemed to be at a loss as to what to do with the precocious child. She spun around and caught sight of her fathers, both looking disheveled and sweaty.

“Daddy, Papa, I want pony _now!_ ” She demanded, pointing at a thouroughbred show stallion. “Now!”

Will tried to hide his relief. “Um, sorry about that, Sir.” He addressed the stablehand, before scooping up Sofia. “Don’t you dare run away again” He whispered to her before holding her close.

Sofia kicked her legs and went to Hannibal, who stared at her in apparent relief.

“Papa, I _wan pony now._ ”

“I don’t think that should be too suitable, Princess.” He countered. “Pony is really expensive.”

“Daddy, pony?” Sofia inquired of Will.

“No, sweetie. No pony. We can’t just buy a pony. Want me to spin you?” Will asked, to cheer her up. It was a game they played, where they held hands and spun around and around until one or both of them got dizzy.

“Papa spin today.” Sofia demanded of Hannibal. Normally, he would curl his lip in disgust, and state that Will was the person whom to turn to for menial tasks, but today, relief and fear were still fresh in him, so he relented. Just once.

“Hold hands then. And don’t fly off, I am not in the mood to search for you again.”

And they spun together, Will standing by the side, laughing at the cool, collected doctor spinning his kid around, a smile breaking on his tight face

.

And the trees spun around them.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I'm sorry the end scene was so cheesy, but I really really wanted to use that picture okay. Its from Mads' film Die Tur, and I just love it agh, so I just incorporated a scene with it.  
> Please, please do leave comments and make me intensely happy. Your comments are the reason I update every day ;3


	7. Scarlet Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sofia contracts a mild case of scarlet fever, and its up to Will and Hannibal to make sure the petulant little girl eats and stays in bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here you go, one more chapter, you may get one in six hours!   
> I can't draw but I tried sketching the piece that is included below.   
> Happy reading!

The toys sat forgotten as Will Graham cradled Sofia, his hand feeling desperately on her forehead. The child in question, lacking her usual four-year old boisterousness, stared blankly at Will, eyes painfully dry and itchy. "Daddy?" she asked Will, who was scrabbling around for a thermometer. "Itchy." 

"I know, Sofia, just wait a moment, till Daddy finds a thermometer, okay?" Will stalled, fishing the thermometer out from Hannibal's bag of various medical supplies. He wiped it on his coat, and stuck it into Sofia's mouth, who weakly began to suck on it. Will took it out after a painfstakingly measured thirty seconds and checked it. 102.2. Will was no medical professional, but he knew a high fever when he saw one, having suffered many of the same before. "Do you feel cold, sweetheart?" Will asked the girl, who empathically nodded, shivering softly. Hannibal strode into the room, and raised his eyebrows, seeing Will cuddle Sofia too closely, and reprimanded him.

"Will, you can't pick her up every time she asks, she is four years old and-"

"Hannibal, I think she's sick!" Will notified him, eyebrows raised. 

Hannibal closed his eyes and took a fortifying breath. Will thought Sofia was sick once a week. Will was the one who wanted to rush her to the emergency room after she accidentally scraped her knee on a twig. Will was the one who wanted to put a bruised elbow in a plaster cast for two months. Oh yes, Hannibal didn't usually believe Will when he complained Sofia was ill. He raised his eyebrows (or whatever there was of them).

"I don't think a common cold or such would cause you to coddle her intensley. Will, she isn't sick." 

Will's eyes narrowed and he handed Sofia to Hannibal. "You tell me she isn't sick." Will demanded.

Hannibal held Sofia, and peered into her eyes, which stared unfocusedly back at him, dry and itchy, as he felt her forehead, eyes widening at the heat. A red flush was starting to spead across her dry face, except for a noticable whitening about her mouth. She weakly scratched her arm, where a slight red rash was forming. Hannibal frowned and stared again. He had seen this before.

"She's got scarlet fever." he diagnosed, handing the sleepy child back to Will. "Take her to her room, let her sleep, but just be there until the fever breaks. Sponge her face regularly, iced water should do. I have to attent to Mrs Doughman," he said resignedly, "as well as James, for two hours. I'll check on her after that." Three hours he sat with his patients, and and listened to them drone about illegitimate children, cheating wives, and even a persistent rash on the back of their hands while Hannibal nodded and smiled like he was supposed to, and two rooms away, a sick child tossed and turned from a fever ravaging her. And the last patient left, and Hannibal rose from his chair and immediately went to check on Sofia in the next room.

She was sleeping fitfully, her head tossing this way and that while Will stood beside her bed, his eye twitching nervously.

"Um, she bit me." He announced as Hannibal entered. "Twice, I think I might have rabies." He said calmly.

Hannibal raised an eyebrow. "Winston the mutt has bit you at least sixty times as far as I've known you, and you have not contracted rabies. You don't get rabies from children biting you, Will." 

"I'm probably immune to it..." Will said thoughtfully, surveying his hand. 

"Yes, of course you are. Its probably because you're part dog." 

Will snorted, and handed Hannibal a bowl of hot soup. "You feed her, I don't want to get bitten again."

"Is her fever reducing?" Hannibal asked, accepting the bowl of soup and taste-testing it (he never trusted Will's cooking, of course.) Will's smirk disappeared, only to be replaced by a worried frown. "Actually, no. It only got higher, now its 102.8 degrees, and it doesn't show signs of getting lower."

"Right." Hannibal noted. "Will, you go get some dinner for yourself, take out the leftovers, and heat them up carefully." 

"Can't we just get Chinese takeout?" Will asked petulantly. "Its been so long since we..."

"I would rather eat my own bladder." Hannibal muttered, as he sat down on a chair next to Sofia's bed. "No takeouts of any kind in this house please." 

Will scoffed and went out of the room, making up his mind to call up Zeller and Price to bring some takeout for lunch when they visited tomorrow. The most unhealthy, oily, fried kind, he envisioned himself saying, imagining the look on his lover's face.

Hannibal looked at Sofia, who was still sleeping roughly, tossing her head this way and that. "Wake up, Princess Sofia. I've got your dinner here." He tapped the spoon on the bowl, and Sofia's eyes opened blearily, as she shivered, her cheeks flushing further. "I'm not hungry, Papa." 

"You have to be hungry. Daddy actually ventured into the kitchen to make this." Hannibal told the kid, raising a spoon the her lips. She turned her head sideways. 

"No food now." She demanded. "I'm not hungry."

"You haven't eaten for the entire day, Princess. And I heard you bit Daddy?" 

"Yes, he was a meanie, trying to give me chicken and I don't want chicken." Sofia pouted.

"Yes, Daddy probably deserved that bite. You should bite him a few times more, just to be safe." Hannibal encouraged her, knowing Will was phoning his FBI friends for takeout. "Now, what should we do about this chicken soup?"

"Throw it away?" Sofia smiled, her pale mouth widening. "No, give it to Winston!" She knew the old dog ate anything that was placed beside him. 

"How about you eat it?" Hannibal asked, alarmed by her suggestions. "It actually does taste good." 

"I don't want to." She shook her head petulantly.

"All right then, Princess Sofia. What do you say you share this soup with me?" Hannibal hated Will cooking, but he had to make the kid eat, didn't he? "We'll make it a game." He cringed inwardly, Will was the one who played the games, not him.

"Okay, you start, Papa!" She said, opening her eyes. 

Hannibal placed a spoonful of soup into his own mouth, and swallowed it down, trying not to make a face. "That tastes delicious." he declared, getting ready another spoonful. "I think I'm going to finish it all."

"No, me! Me!" Sofia exclaimed, opening her mouth.

"I don't think so. It's all mine now, I'll finish everything!" Hannibal let a smile break through, as he raised the second spoon to his mouth. 

"Mine!" 

He placed the spoonful in Sofia's mouth, and let her swallow it, and he placed the bowl on his lap. "Now, princess Sofia has gotten her taste, let Papa finish the dish." Hannibal actually found himself liking the game. 

"I want to finish it!" Sofia claimed, opening her mouth again. "Let me finish it, Papa!"

"Oh, I don't think you can finish it. You need to have a large mouth, like mine, see?" He took another spoonful, cursing Will's horrid cooking. "No, no, this isn't for princesses at all."

"I'll finish it! Every drop, I promise!" Sofia said, accepting the second spoonful, and the third, and the fourth, until she finished the whole bowl, as Hannibal silently cursed Will's handiness in the kitchen, forcing him to play infantile games. 

"You finished it all!"  He pretended to be surprised, looking at the empty bowl.”Now what should I eat?” He claimed, in mock dismay.

“Ewww…. Veggies!” Sofia prompted him, delighted that her usually serious and stoic Papa was playing funny games with her.

“No, no, I can’t eat veggies. Mmmm I see a sick little _girl_! Delicious! “ Hannibal lowered his face into Sofia’s neck and pretended to bite her. “Now, you’re a vampire.” He told her.

“What do vampires do?” Sofia asked, unfamiliar with the creatures.

“They sleep.You’re mine?”

“I’m yours, Papa.”

 Hannibal smiled down at her, and watched as her eyes slowly closed, tired out. Her forehead was still quite hot, but it was clammy, meaning she was beginning to sweat out the fever. He went out of the room to behold Will and Beverly sitting on the couch, with Alana and Zeller playing cards on the floor.

“How’s Sofia, Hannibal?” Alana asked, surreptitiously stealing a card from Brian’s pack. “Heard she was sick?”

“Yes, she’s having a slight touch of scarlet fever, its called scarlatina, since its mild. It’s not much, but it would be good to keep an eye on her.” Hannibal sunk down next to Will on the couch.

“Can you not cheat?” Brian asked, outraged, when he found his pile magically lacked six cards. “God, I’d rather play with a two year old than you.”

Will laughed, happily biting into a piece of Chinese shrimp (Hannibal winced). “Sofia plays fairer than you, Alana, and she’s literally the most spoiled kid I’ve seen.”

Beverly widened her eyes, taking a sip of beer. “I though with Hannibal here, she’d grow up learning to say sir, and madam and wearing military uniforms. “

Will snorted, and kissed his lover on the cheek. “Sure. Military uniforms wih princess printed all over them, and a makeshift tiara on her head. She bit me twice today, you know?”

“You deserved it.” Hannibal muttered darkly, as Will showed off his bite marks again.

The guests left, and Will went in to check on Sofia, and announced that she was awake, coming in after ten minutes. “She made me sing six lullabies, and it didn’t work. I just read two chapters of Harry Potter to her, two whole chapters!”

“Well, you must have been reading too enthusiastically.” Hannibal said dryly, before checking in on Sofia. Will had obviously been exagerrating, as Sofia was almost sleeping, cuddled down in her sheets, and staring sleepily up at Hannibal.

“Hi Papa.” She whispered to him, eyes almost closing.

“Hello, princess. Are you ready to sleep?” Hannibal laid a hand on her forehead, checking her temperature, which had lowered slightly.

“I think your lips look like fishies.” Sofia declared sleepily.

“…what?” Hannibal’s eye twitched, caught between beating a hasty retreat, or glancing in the mirror.

“Two fishies, and sometimes I think they go swimming across your face… la la la….you should get normal lips, Papa, or else they’ll swim like fishies…” Sofia yawned, and closed her eyes.

Fishies.

Hannibal wanted to hang himself from the ceiling, but instead, he uncharacteristically pressed a kiss on the sleeping child’s forehead.

“Don’t you dare grow up, Sofia.” He hissed at her. “Don’t you dare.”

Thirty six miles away, a tired looking, dark haired woman, and her blonde husband with a scar on his forehead registered for teaching posts in the local private school. The headmistress, Mrs Johnson was mighty pleased, since they had posh British accents, and were willing to teach young children. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, I've been heavily influenced by the Despicable Me 2 beginning haha. Guys, seriously, do leave comments, how else am I supposed to know if you like this or not? Thank you very much for reading, and for the feedback you're going to leave now :D  
> Oh, and GUESS WHO'S BACK WITH A BRITISH ACCENT BABES!!!


	8. Where's My Mummy?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sofia gets to join kindergarten. Reminisces, questions of an innocent child, realization, and shock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, the story is still happy and incredibly fluffy on the Lecter's side. But we can't forget about the others, can we now *winks and waits till u read it all*

“Papa, see what I drew!” Five year old Sofia ran down to Hannibal and shoved a sheet of paper into him.

“Just a minute, princess.” Hannibal paused the Tattle-Crime news report on his iPad, and took Sofia’s drawing of a building, and her odd caricature of what must have been herself next to it. “What is this building?”

“School!” Sofia was due for her first day at school tomorrow, and she had been babbling non-stop to Will about it, telling him about all the friends she would surely make in ten minutes, and how maybe she even would have a boyfriend by tomorrow (Hannibal almost stabbed himself hearing this). “Do you like it? I’ll draw it nicer after I go to it every day!”

“It’s good.” Hannibal smiled at her, and felt an unnatural surge of fondness. He picked her up, disobeying his own explicit instructions, and placed her on his lap, and whispered in her ear. “What will Papa do at home without his princess?”

“Will you be lonely?” Sofia asked eyes wide.

Hannibal doubted it, since Will would be at home most of the time, and he had way too many patients as it was, but he nodded pretend-sadly, to humour Sofia. “Of course. What will you do at school, princess?”

“I’ll make a lot of friends!”

“Unlike Daddy, right?” Hannibal snorted, looking in the direction where Will sat, grooming Winston.

“I’ll draw…” Sofia counted on her fingers. “I’ll read!”

“That’s good, then Papa doesn’t have to read you a story at night, right?” Hannibal hoped she wouldn’t refuse that though, it was either story time, or helping Will bathe the stupid mutt Winston.

“No, you’ll read to me forever!” Sofia claimed. “I’ll learn to number.”

“You mean you’ll learn to count?”

“Uh-huh! I’ll make friends with the teachers!”

“All right, princess. Go to bed, then. I’ll be up there soon, with a book for us.” Hannibal watched as her legs twinkled up the stairs.

“You _could_ help me bathe Winston, you know?” Will muttered darkly beneath the comb. “You never take an interest in Winston.”

Hannibal tried not to laugh.

“Will, if it weren’t for you and your impossible animal instinct, I would have thrown Winston out with the spare meat.” Six years of living with the dog hadn’t heightened Hannibal’s approval of it.

Winston barked dolefully.

. . .

“School! That’s it!” Sofia cried, pointing at the large painted building in the distance.

“Yes, darling. Now, tell me which class you’re in.” Will walked her through the gate, Hannibal checking messages on his phone.

“Kindergarten H!” She exclaimed, remembering. “Daddy, you and Papa can’t come in” She told the men seriously, raising her eyebrows.

“Why not?” Hannibal smiled wryly.

“You’re too old.” Sofia whispered. “They’ll think you’re teachers.”

“Now listen to me, okay?” Will knelt down next to her, and turned the girl to face them “You be yourself, you run around, you bite people, you can do whatever you like. I won’t mind. But you’ve got to be you, okay?”

“Okay.” Sofia kissed Will on the cheek.

“Now, Sofia, you can’t bite people. But you can do anything else.” Hannibal smiled at her.

“What if someone’s mean to me?” Sofia was struck by the possibility, and looked so scared for a second that Hannibal and Will had forgotten how the girl was raised in a household where she was petted and praised for everything, and the visitors she had, like Alana, Beverly and Zeller only played with her, let her win, spoiled her even further. Hannibal realised the child had no idea of the cruel world, and was time to get her ready to face up to it.

“If anyone says anything rude to you, anything at all, then you tell Papa first.” Hannibal wasn’t ready to let her face it yet, though. He would make sure no one was rude to his princess.

“Okay.”

“What do you do?” Hannibal asked her again, just to make sure.

“If anyone is mean, or hurts me, I tell Papa.” She recited, and smiled at Hannibal.

“Good girl.” He kissed her cheek briefly.

A teacher herself strode up, her long black hair swinging jauntily behind her, and she smiled at the two men and the girl.

“Hello, there, what’s your name?” She asked, her British accent pleasing to the ears.

“Sofia.” Sofia Lecter, boisterous princess, the very girl who would dare to pull Hannibal’s hair, who would dare to bite Will, and pull Winston’s esteemed tail, who actually called Jack Crawford a fatty, and told Zeller that he was a cheater, suddenly looked shy and mortified.

“Hello Sofia, you must be in kindergarten?” The pretty lady asked again, her blue eyes flashing with kindness.

Sofia nodded, turning red.

“Speak up, Sofia!” Will chided quietly. “Sorry, she’s not usually this shy.” Hannibal nodded his assent, his hand on Sofia’s shoulder.

“Well, that’s no problem, once you meet everyone else, you’ll be settled in no time!” She grinned at the girl who smiled back.

“So you’re her parents?” She asked the men, nodding open-mindedly at the pairing. “I’ll be Sofia’s kindergarten teacher for this year, I’m Melissa Johnson. My husband and I teach here.”

Hannibal shook her hand, smiling politely. This teacher seemed decent; he wouldn’t have to make soup for himself.

“Will Graham.”

“Hannibal Lecter.”

“Not _the_ Hannibal Lecter, surely!?” Melissa gasped, and goggled at Hannibal. “No way!”

“ _The_ Hannibal Lecter?” Hannibal raised his eyebrows, and inquired.

“You wrote all those articles in _The Psychiatrist Monthly!_ I’ve read all of them, I think your articles are brilliant, your theories are incredibly sound, and Oh God, I’m babbling, I’ll be late! It was an honour meeting you, Doctor Lecter, and Mr Graham.” She smiled eagerly, flashing white teeth.

“You too, Melissa.” Will smiled, as Sofia waved happily at them, her curls bouncing, as she held hands with Miss Melissa Johnson. They looked eerily alike from the back, thought Hannibal.

“Should we go home?” Will pressed his lips to Hannibal’s and pushed up against him.

“I think we should.” Hannibal growled softly into Will’s mouth.

. . .

“Where’s my mummy?” Sofia asked, as Hannibal and Will were sitting by her bed, listening eagerly about her first day at school. Will looked surprised at the question.

“Well. Um. Sofia, you don’t have a mum.” Will stuttered, unaware as to how to approach the question.

“Why not?” The child asked curiously.

“Because you have two fathers. Most kids have only on you know, but you have _two_.” Will tried to explain.

“But how come all my new friends have mummies and I have none?” She inquired again, settling back on her pillows.

Hannibal closed his eyes impatiently. He would have to handle this, as usual, since Will was messing it up. _Well, that was obvious_.

“All right, Sofia.” Hannibal told her sternly. “You can have a mum, princess, but if you have a mum, then you have to have only one father.”

“No…” Sofia asked, frowning.

“Yes.” Hannibal confirmed. “Children with mothers only have one father. So since you want a mum, you have to choose, me or Daddy?”

“Hannibal!” Will, alarmed at his lover’s tactics. Hannibal shushed him with a pointed glare.

“Well, well, princess! Choose now, you can only have one dad if you have a mum! So who do you want?” Hannibal almost scolded.

“Both.” Sofia almost cried. “I want both.”

“Then you can’t have a mum.”

Sofia’s face relaxed, and she smiled again.

“Silly Papa.” She tapped Hannibal on his elegant nose. “I don’t want a mummy. Only you and Daddy!”

Will smiled at her.

“And we don’t want anyone except our Sofia. Sleep tight, love, you have school again tomorrow.”

The child fell almost instantly into sleep, her eyes closing slowly, her curls fanned out over the pillow, her hands curled around a small doll, her lips a red button in the moon of her milk-dipped face. Her eyelashes tickled her cheek, she looked positively innocent.

Will found a fond smile tugging at his lips, looking at the sleeping child.

“Remember when we found her?” He whispered to Hannibal. “Remember how you didn’t want to keep her?”

Hannibal remembered.

“I do.” He smiled at the sleeping girl, sat back on the chair. “I don’t regret my decision in letting you keep her. Not for one moment.”

“Yeah, can’t imagine how it would be without the kid.”

They kissed over their sleeping daughter, and sat back, only holding hands, watching what they had brought up with their own hands, and how brilliant she turned out to be. They sat, lingering in their success.

Twenty seven miles away, Melissa Johnson sat up in bed, sleep suddenly disappearing, a realisation striking her with the force of a million volts. Two men, Elgerton Baltimore, little girl, pretty girl, dark hair. She couldn’t breathe as she recalled the drunk husband with the beatings and bruises, she tried to breathe as she remembered the tiny fingers and the tiny toes, she felt numb as she remembered the leaving the child at a doorstep. But her happiness, that initial shock of joy slid out of her, replaced with icy coldness, as she remembered how Sofia (because that was what they had named her) kissed Hannibal and Will Graham goodbye, how her eyes shone when she saw them, and how she excitedly talked about her two daddies in class, the serious daddy who called her princess, and the cute daddy who had many dogs. And Melissa couldn’t breathe.

Thomas Johnson, thin, his blonde hair mussed, and the scar on his forehead showed, as he sat up in his bed, beholding his wife sitting up straight, his gorgeous wife with something wrong with her at the moment, but he was only Thomas Johnson, a common British man, not worthy of this goddess, he knew. So he wouldn’t ask.

He took her in his arms.

Held her.

And she cried, and cried and cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, it was so sad for me writing the last bit okay *ugh ugh ugh* But yeah, that had to be faced, and don't worry, Mel's going to appear again. But seriously though, leave me comments reviews, opinions, literally anything. It makes me happy, and happy me equals a very frequently updated story ok.


	9. Shock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melissa tells Hannibal who she is, and he has to decide what to do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not even gonna say anything until you finish this chapter.  
> (The two GIFs used here, are from Harunaoko's tumblr (its her GIFs that inspired this btw)

“Papa, papa, wake up! You’ve got to wake up!”

Sunday. Sunday was the only goddamn day Hannibal could lie in, and sleep until noon. Sunday was the only day he could lie in bed, and catch up on sleep, since there were no patients that day. Sunday was the day he looked forward to all week, just for that extra few hours of sleep. And now the child had ruined it.

“What.” He mumbled into the sheet, not bothering to be polite, since the little person he was speaking to was busy jumping on his bare back. “What is it.”

“Are you sleeping!?” the five year old practically screamed into his ear.

Hannibal groaned.

“I was. What do you want?”

“It’s the Parents Meeting today! You’ve got to come, it’s the first one! It’s at school!”  Sofia jumped on his back even harder. Hannibal idly wondered if he had broken his vertebrae, before raising his head slightly off his pillow.

“WILL!” He raised his voice, as the man in question came running into the room, his face half shaven, holding a razor in his hand.

“What?” he asked, foam dripping on the carpet from the blade.

“Take Sofia to her infernal parents meeting, and both of you go away.” Hannibal wouldn’t usually have used a derogatory term like _go away_ but he was terribly tired, and he wanted to sleep.

“Oh, I asked her to ask you to take her, so you’ve got to. Jack’s got some abuse case he needs me to look at.” Will said nonchalantly, turning away.

Hannibal shot up in bed, Sofia giggling madly as she fell over.

“Excuse me. Sunday is my day of rest. I will not go anywhere.” Hannibal claimed, raising his eyebrows.

“Suit yourself.” Will said simply, before deviously turning to Sofia. “Papa doesn’t want to go to your meeting.”

“Why?” Sofia’s demeanour switched entirely, her eyes growing wide and sad.

“Oh, because he hates you.” Will grinned maliciously.

“Do you?” Sofia looked at her Papa, a murderous stare in her eyes.

“No!” Hannibal corrected himself. “Why would I---I only hate one person! Not you. I’ll go to your meeting, if you like.”

“Yes!” Sofia exclaimed, before asking “Who do you hate, though?”

“Winston.” Hannibal sneered at the dog that slinked in beside Will.

“Oh, ok. I like Winston.” Sofia said, thoughtfully. “You can’t come like this, I don’t think Miss Melissa likes hairy chests.”

Hannibal’s eye twitched. Ever since they found the child she’d been giving him grief about body hair.

“And God forbid the holy Miss Melissa think we aren’t up to scratch.” Hannibal rolled his eyes, before raising himself up off the precious bed.

\---

Melissa smiled at them, her blue eyes twinkling.

“Well, Sofia, you should go play while I talk to your daddy.” She said, beckoning her to the playground outside.

“Oh, he isn’t _Daddy,_ Miss Melissa, it’s Papa.” Sofia said, as if the fact was terribly obvious, and skipped out of the door.

Melissa laughed and turned to Hannibal. “Sorry!”

“Oh, that isn’t a problem.” Hannibal sat down on the chair Miss Melissa pointed at, and grimaced. The chair was meant for five year olds, not forty year old cannibals with a tendency to not like sitting on kindergarten chairs.

Miss Melissa didn’t even notice as she sat down on another.

“Now, Sofia is an excellent child, and she’s actually rather smart for her age.”

Hannibal smirked.

“She draws very well, as you can see her pictures here, and her interaction in a group is moderately well, since she prefers to only mix with the upper caste of students, the more…popular, shall we say.”

“Good.” Hannibal said. Was this honestly what he had to wake up at seven on a Sunday to hear. He knew Sofia chose wisely, he didn’t have to hear it from this pretty waif of a teacher.

“Now, you do know she is different from the other children…”

Hannibal glared sharply at her.

“…in that she has two fathers.” Melissa continued, ignoring the pointed looks Hannibal shot at her.

“Oh.” He said.

“She seems to take that incredibly well, she’s very confident about it, and talks about her fathers all the time. At first the other children were scornful---“

Hannibal glared at the class photo murderously.

“….but now they seem very accepting of the fact that her parenting is different. She’s incredibly well mannered, and the only problem with her studies is her tendency to make careless mistakes in maths.” Melissa continues, smiling. “All in all, I think you’ve raised an excellent child.”

Hannibal raised his eyebrows. He knew that, he didn’t have to hear it from her.

“Now, there _was_ one matter I would like to discuss with you.” The teacher’s pale cheeks blushed slightly, and she tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear.

“Yes?” Hannibal inquired, rather annoyed at the fact. “Has she done anything terrible? I’ll pay for the damages.”

“No, no!” The teacher laughed nervously, and Hannibal felt a slight twinge of sympathy for the way she nervously wrung her hands and paled.

“See, um…you are two men, and…I was wondering if the girl was from a surrogate mother. She doesn’t seem to have inherited any features from you or Mr Graham…”

Hannibal bristled. “I wonder why this is any of y—“

“It’s my business because of school records, and health insurance provided by the education committee. We need to know.” Melissa told him shortly, yet still managing to look like a frightened rabbit.

“She was adopted. From…a Lithuanian orphanage.” Hannibal improvised wildly.

“Are you Lithuanian, Doctor Lecter?” Melissa asked.

“Yes.”

“Sofia wasn’t adopted from a Lithuanian orphanage, was she?” Melissa asked, her blue eyes clouding over with tears. “You didn’t adopt her formally, did you?”

Hannibal paled.

“What nonsense are you even broaching here?”

“My name is Melissa Johnson.” The teacher smiled sadly. “My husband is Thomas Johnson. Look at me Doctor Lecter, look at me.”

And Hannibal looked at her, and he _saw_.

He saw the little nose that was so like his daughter’s, and he saw the dark, flyaway hair that was so like Sofia’s and he saw the clear, large blue eyes he looked at every single day, when Sofia asked for junk food, or a bedtime story. He saw Sofia in Melissa, and it scared him so badly.

_Mel._

_…have received tenacy in England…._

_….my boyfriend, Thomas Johnson…._

_Melissa Johnson._

For once, Hannibal stood speechless with shock.

“No.” He told her. “You cannot.”

“But, Doctor Lecter, I can. I can.” Melissa smiled again, but sadly, and a tear slipped down her cheek.

“You will not.” Hannibal found himself rising, knocking over the chair. “You will not.” He pointed a finger in her face, jabbed it into her throat, and for once, he didn’t acknowledge politeness, because this woman could take his Sofia away.

“Doctor Lecter, I cou---“ Melissa almost started to cry, tears slipping down her cheeks.

“You will _not_. You will not, Mrs Johnson.” He spun, and stalked out of the room, blood pounding in his ears, seeing red.

Five years. Five years they had an idyllic life, waking up in the morning, looking after Sofia, berating Winston, getting food spilt over his couch, reading stories. Five years, and some waif with her excuses was not going to spoil this for Hannibal, she was not.

“Did she say I was bad?” Sofia was her Papa’s face, tensed and white.

“No.” Hannibal bent down to her level, as they approached their house. “She said you were brilliant, princess.”

Even the word princess sounded thick and black on his tongue, as he swallowed down anger. He knew what he had to do.

He sharpened a knife.

\--

Hannibal peered in at the window of the Johnson residence, a small house in Baltimore Terrace, two bedrooms, and one bathroom, with a small kitchen and a living room. Perfect for a young couple with a child. Hannibal watched as the couple mucked around the kitchen, wondering how he should kill her. He would drain her of blood, yes, that’s how he would do it. He would let her blood spill on the cold grey floor of her apartment, and the husband could be felled with a quick stab to his abdomen.

He smiled slightly.

The woman had accidentally cut herself with the knife, and he husband laughed at her, before he kissed her softly on the lips, but Hannibal did not care, he only saw the small drop of blood on her pale finger.

 _Sofia’s blood_ , he thought harshly. Sofia’s blood.

He would spill Sofia’s blood tonight, because it was her blood that ran in Melissa’s veins, wasn’t it? It was the same blood that he saw when he bandaged up the knees of his princess, or after she scratched a mosquito bite till it bled. It was the same blood he saw when she accidentally nicked herself, when he had to kiss a papercut to make the pain go away. It was the same blood as Sofia’s and he spun around, running home, feeling sick to his stomach.

Nobody was in the house, Will had taken Sofia to a play of some sort.

Hannibal threw the knife on his desk, where it stuck, the handle quivering. He kicked the heavy oak desk, not wincing at the pain, instead, ripping up a sheet of paper that got in his way.

“You coward.” He swore at himself, sweat covering his brow. “You coward.”

He slumped on his chair, sweat pouring down his face, breathing heavily, the heavy, sick feeling not disappearing from his stomach. He clenched his fists, felt the nails dig into his palm. He couldn’t do it. Numerous kills he had easily executed, but this simple one, of a woman he barely even knew, was enough to send him running home like a child. He almost threw up. She had to be disposed of, but he couldn’t have done it, he was a coward. The word rang like steel in his brain, and he slammed his hand against his desk, a loud noise echoed throughout the room. He did it again, not caring that  his hand hurt.

“What can I do now? What can I do now?” He whispered angrily, slamming his hand against the table.  “What is happening.” He hissed. Hannibal, whose life had been ideal, perfect for the last five years couldn’t watch it tumbling down. Yet he had his chance at killing her, he had had a brilliant chance, but what did he do? He ran away, like a coward, he ran away like a child.

“What can I do now?” he whispered, his face bathed in sweat.

He lay his head on the table, and somehow fell into a fitful sleep, and that was how Will found him, two hours later, carrying a sleeping Sofia. He put her to bed, kissed her, and then went over to where his lover was dejectedly slumped on his desk, sleeping. Will touched his face, found it slick with sweat. Something was wrong.

“Hannibal?” he whispered to the doctor. “Hannibal, are you all right?”

Hannibal rose from his uncomfortable position on the desk, blinked at Will, who had an anxious expression on his face.

“Love, are you all right?” Will asked again, alarmed at his lover’s pale, sweaty face, and darkened eyes.

“I’m fine.” Hannibal said slowly. His voice sounded hoarse, deep. “I had a headache, I think I took too many pills. Nothing is wrong, Will.”

And under the weight of his terrible lie, Hannibal tried to smile at his lover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so at the beginning I wanted Mel to be this obsessive crazy horrible villain sort of character, but then I realised she's actually gone through a lot of shit, what with her abusive boyfriend and all that, so I decided to make her a conflicting character, as in you get to choose if you hate her or love her. So yeah, I also originally planned for Hannibal to kill her and make her into soup but then she doesn't really deserve that either.  
> I know whats coming up next but do you (cackles*)  
> Now, please, please do leave comments, any sort of comments.  
> I'm waiting.


	10. Christmas and Leaving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lecters celebrate Christmas with a bang, but a week or two later, Hannibal has to make a painful decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, I loved all the comments on yesterday's chapter ever so much, I hope you'll give me the same kind of feedback this chapter too! *keeps shut till you finish this*

One and a half years passed, as it was wont to pass in the life of a young child. The days were blurs of ice cream sundaes, specially cooked gourmet meals, and night time stories. Sofia grew older, and Hannibal would cut her hair, Will holding her down, since her dream was to have hair reaching to her toes (“Like a princess!”). One and a half years, Winston had his tail pulled by the little girl, and Will juggled cases in the FBI, and looking after his little girl. For one and a half years, Hannibal had a small ball of fear in his throat every time Sofia talked, or laughed, every time he remembered she existed. One and a half years, Mel would hate herself, and long for the few hours she spent with her child in school.

It was two days to Christmas.

“I need her back. Thomas, I need her back!” Melissa cried to her husband over a dinner, when Sofia was seven and a half years old. “She’s my child, she’s mine! I left her there! She’s mine, Thomas; we’ve got to pursue this legally!”

Thomas, even after years of living with Melissa, couldn’t believe his good fortune that a plain, thin Englishman like him could be landed with such a goddess. So even if he disagreed, he would keep his mouth shut.

“We would win, you know that.” He said, measuring his words carefully.

“Then, lets do it!” Melissa exclaimed, waving hands in that empathic way Thomas noticed when he first saw her, and she had bruises and cigarette burns all down her face and arms. Thomas had thought she was gorgeous then, and he still did, so he would go along with anything she said, no matter what he thought. It wasn’t his place.

“We could. But why? Did you try asking Lecter to give her up?”

Melissa gave a small snort. “Lecter and Graham adore her. They’ll never…”

“Did you ask?” Thomas never interrupted his wife, never. But today he felt like he had to. “Don’t involve the child in a court case.”

Melissa smiled, excited at the prospect of seeing Sofia again, holding her, and she forgot that she didn’t see how the girl looked like, acted like, was like for the six years she was absent. “I’ll tell Lecter to give her back!” She hugged her husband, smiling broadly. “I’ve never actually asked him, I mean, after all, I am her mother!”

Thomas was silent, his face drawn. He himself, before he married Melissa, had a sister who was adopted. It had broken his Da’s heart when she went off with her own parents at sixteen.

“She’ll have no choice but to come with me, she’s mine by blood! We can provide for her, we can go back to England!” She beamed at Thomas, who had been missing his home country for a while.

Thomas smiled, weakly.

If he had been a handsome, strong man who could oppose anything, he would have told her that Lecter and Graham deserved the child more than they did. If his hair had been darker, or thicker, and his nose shorter, he would have told Melissa that what she was doing was wrong. If he looked more like Melissa’s husband and not some man she had hired as her chauffeur, he would have scolded her. But he was only plain, simple Thomas Johnson from the South of England.

He was only plain old Thomas Johnson.

So he stayed silent.

-

Hannibal, Will and Sofia, of course, did not know this. It was a memory pushed at the back of Hannibal’s mind, and Will and Sofia were blissfully ignorant.

It was Christmas Eve.

Sofia had a small function in school that day, some sort of recitation, and she had begged Will (who quickly agreed) to come for it. She had also looked up the phone numbers of Hannibal’s patients for the day, and said, in her simpering child’s voice that she was sick, and she needed Papa to look after her, and could they please reschedule? She even faked coughing perfectly. Hannibal was torn between amusement and nervousness at how well she managed to deceive. She had also bitten Brian Zeller and told him she would hit him if he didn’t come, same with Price. Alana and Beverly both agreed to come even before she asked. She had also sat on Jack Crawford’s lap, and asked him, in her sweetest voice, to please come since she “needed her favourite uncle” to watch her recite whatever she had to recite.  Jack had to agree. So they agreed to go for whatever it was Sofia had, and then head back to the Lecters for Christmas gift exchange.

So it was a cheery party of eight (Will wanted Winston to come but Winston didn’t want to go, apparently, since he buried himself in a small heap of dog treats) that somehow managed to squeeze into Hannibal’s Bentley that day. Sofia sat on Jack’s ample lap, and chattered nonstop about whatever came into her mind.

“Beverly, what do intestines look like?” Sofia asked Beverly, who was sitting on top of Zeller’s lap in order to make room for everyone.

“She wouldn’t know, she’s sitting on mine at the moment.” Brian panted, rueing the day he agreed to go for this odd play.

“Shut up, Zeller, I bet this is the first time someone’s sitting on your lap in your entire life.” Beverly shot back at him, raising her eyebrows. “In my family, we always sat like this.”

“Did you have a really small car?” Will asked, turning around from where he sat next to Hannibal in the front.

“No, I had a really big family.” Quipped Beverly, playfully poking him in the shoulder.

“We’re here.” Hannibal said shortly, pulling up to the driveway. “Now, Sofia, do you remember your lines?”

“Yes, Papa!”

‘What are you acting as, anyway?” Zeller asked her, as she clung to his hand, rebuffing the arm Price offered her.

“I’m Joseph! Mary’s husband!” Sofia exclaimed, smiling happily. “I get to say lines!”

“You’re Joseph?” Alana snorted. “I mean, I get it you’re the only kid with gay dads, but they don’t really have to make you a guy, do they?”

“No, I like Joseph, he has the most lines.” Sofia insisted, running off into the changing room, yelling to Will, “Daddy, you have to sit in the first line! First line!”

“Okay, Sofia!” Will called out, trying to squeeze past the throng of parents into the first line, dragging the others behind him. The curtain opened slowly, showing a small girl with blonde hair with a beach ball up her dress.

“I am so pregnant.” She cried.

“The kids wrote the play.” Will whispered to Hannibal, who looked surprised.

“I am so pregnant, and I need to sit down to give birth! I need a home!”  She cried again, and Sofia appeared, seeming to have a beard made of black cotton glued to her face.

“My wife is pregnant!” Sofia tried to make her voice rough and manly. “Does anyone have a home for my wife to sit down?”

Hannibal tried not to laugh.

Thomas Johnson, fifth grade teacher, stood in the sidelines, watching the entire set of Sofia’s relatives, or whatever they were laugh and joke about. He felt something terribly heavy in his stomach. If he wasn’t Thomas Johnson, married to a goddess. If only.

The play went on as the kids had scripted it, with odd laughs, and sighs from the parents sitting in the audience. The birth scene was especially graphic, with the ball popping out, and being hidden away quickly, only to be replaced with a ragdoll that cried “Mama” every five minutes. It finished soon enough though, and it was only an hour until they all arrived back home, and Sofia immediately remembered what the entire occasion was, when she spotted the tree in the corner.

“Presents! Let’s open presents!” She exclaimed, and plonked herself under the tree. “Presents!”

Will smiled, and called everyone else over. “Let’s do presents now, all right?” He agreed, as everyone sat on the floor, Hannibal choosing to remain on his armchair.

“Hannibal, you can’t just sit on a chair, its Christmas, we sit under the tree!” Alana reproached him, as he raised his eyebrows at her, and went over to sit on the floor next to Will.

“All right. Alana, you go first.” Hannibal dictated, wondering if the turkey had cooked well.

“For Zeller, I have a packet of Italian silk, chocolate flavoured, extra pleasure….” She noticed Sofia sitting there, listening expectantly, and clapped a hand over her mouth, turning red, and handing the packet to Brian, who accepted it with a smirk.

“What did you give Brian?” Sofia asked pointedly.

“Balloons.” Alana coughed discreetly.  “Teeny tiny balloons.”

The gift exchange carried on in this manner, Sofia accumulating a large hoard of toys, all either too expensive or too luxurious. The girl was totally spoilt, noted Will with a snort as he rummaged around for his gift for Hannibal, brandishing a thin paper envelope.

“Now, I honestly did not know what to get for Hannibal this year.” He announced. “I mean, I’ve gotten him silk shirts, collars, and whatever his European Holiness likes, and I had no idea this year. So um…I went researching a bit online, and I found _these_.” He handed the paper envelope to Hannibal, who decorously slit it open, looked at the two tickets inside. His eyes grew wide.

“These are tickets for the Vienna opera…” he muttered. “Will, how did…” He didn’t bother to finish that sentence as he pressed his lips to Will’s , hard, trying to show his thanks with the intensity of the kiss.

“Ew.” Sofia whispered, closing her eyes.

“Can you please go find a room?” Jack requested gruffly. “Far. Far away.”

“My gift for Will, is handmade, since he usually doesn’t like expensive perfumes, and shirts and such.”

“His loss.” Brian snorted.

Hannibal presented a large roll of thick paper to Will, and warned him

“Only open it half way, if you wish to hide your shame.” He said, with a small smile.

Will rolled the paper open halfway, and on it was a magnificent sketch of Will, topless, detail exquisite and perfect, the shading throwing light flatteringly on his lithe body, his hair seeming to float in the wind Hannibal managed to create with a pencil. Will’s mouth hung open, in astonishment and delight, that Hannibal would actually do a life sized drawing of him, made to unroll the parchment further, but was stopped by Hannibal’s hand on his arm.

“I don’t think you need to unroll it further in front of guests.” Hannibal, uncharacteristically, winked.

“Why…oh. _Ohhh._ ” Will’s eyes brightened in realisation, and he blushed, rolling it back up.

Brian gave a shout of laughter, catching on.

“Oh my God! He drew you a nude sketch! A freaking full sized nude sketch for Christmas!”

“A bloody gorgeous nude sketch,” Beverly winked at Hannibal. “go on, Will, open it up!”

“I’ll frame it later, don’t worry.” Will promised, blushing.

“No, don’t!” Sofia squealed. “I don’t want to see your willy, daddy.”

\---

It was about a week after Christmas when Hannibal’s telephone rung shrilly. He picked it up.

“Hello?”

“It’s Melissa.”

The old fear, cold and slimy, settled into Hannibal’s stomach, and stayed there, curling up to sleep.

“Yes?”

“I want my daughter back.”

Hannibal felt a rush of anger slide through him.

“You left her on our doorstep.” He said shortly. “She’s our child now.”

“I wrote you a letter. You didn’t give her back. Doctor Lecter, she’s my child by blood, you do know, that if we pursue a court case, I _will_ win?”

“No you would not.” Hannibal knew the courts of law very well. “It would depend on where Sofia wants to stay.”

“Not when you pretty much kidnapped her. I _wrote_ you a letter.”

“You didn’t try very hard, did you?” Hannibal said, poisonously. “You wrote a letter. One. That must have taken so much effort.”

“I thought she was _dead_!”

“Why don’t you go back to pretending she is, then? We raised her for the past seven years, how on earth do you think you’ll have a hold over her? You don’t know half of what she is like.” Hannibal felt anger rising in him, slowly.

“I’ll tell her.” Melissa said, softly. “I’ll tell her I’m her mummy, and that I can prove it. I’ll tell her you two took her from me.”

“But we did not.” Hannibal felt his voice raise. “You left her with us!”

“And now I take her back! I’m her mother!” Melissa almost screamed down the phone. Thomas, on the other end of the line next to her, winced.

“You all yourself her mother?” Hannibal’s voice rose to a shout, which it had almost never done. “You call yourself a mother when you left her on the doorstep of two strangers, you call yourself her mother when you left her to die with us? You call yourself a wonderful mother when you shoot off to England, and not care for seven years, only coming back when it pleases you? You call yourself her mother?”

“I am her mother, Doctor Lecter.”

“ _Prakeiktas!_ “ He cursed into the phone, in forgotten Lithuanian.

“I can take it into the courts, if you like. Who would the jury believe? A crying woman, with proof? Or two men who have absolutely no proof they didn’t steal this child. They’ll think you stole her because adoption wasn’t approved.”

“Don’t you care if she’s happy?” Hannibal hissed into the phone.

“She’ll be happy with her mother. Doctor Lecter, you _know_ that if I tell her how she came to be, she’ll believe it? You never told her anything! And when she starts to wonder, she’ll come to me. She’s a growing girl, doctor Lecter, she can’t possibly live with two men.”

“She can.” Hannibal didn’t know where the fury came from, as he slammed his fist on the desk, rattling papers.

“Think, Doctor Lecter. What when she asks questions? She’s young still, she can adapt. She can settle to life in England.”

“YOU’RE TAKING HER TO ENGLAND?” His voice swept down the phone, making Melissa wince.

“Yes, we’re taking _our daughter_ to England. I can pursue this legally, and you know why we will win?”

“What?” Hannibal said into the phone brusquely.

“Because we’re a man and a woman, one of us the child’s biological parents. A girl needs her mother, everyone else will agree. You are two men, whom we don’t know how you obtained the child, according to the courts. Not suitable parentage for a growing girl.”

“You cannot…”

“That’s the problem, isn’t it? I can. She’s _mine_.”

“She wasn’t yours for seven years.”

“I am not going to pursue this. Listen, make it better, tell her she’s going on a school trip, or a sort of vacation with Mrs Melissa, and I can make sure that I’ll tell her when we’re settled there. She’ll agree, she likes me. What do you say, Doctor Lecter?”

Hannibal had plenty of things to say, but she was right. She was wrong in everything else, but she was right that the she would have the right to legally take away the child.

“Do as you wish?” Hannibal said into the phone, softly.

“Sorry?”

“ _Do as you wish._ ”

Melissa put the phone down, triumphantly, and hugged Thomas, who couldn’t find it himself to hug back. She kissed him, and he tried to hold her, but when she went to get champagne to celebrate the news, Thomas whispered to the phone next to him.

“Sorry.”

If only he wasn’t Thomas Johnson, plain and simple.

-

Hannibal looked in at Sofia’s bedroom, where the girl lay down, looking at him with scared eyes.

“Who were you shouting at, Papa?”

“No one, princess. Now, what say you, Miss Melissa wants to take you on a school trip? To England.” Hannibal tried to smile at her, for the first time in his life since Mischa passed on, felt his own heart break.

“To England? Where Harry Potter is?” Sofia grinned toothily. “Will you come?”

“We’ll…join you later.” Hannibal lied smoothly, smiling at her shakily. “Won’t it be fun in the plane with Miss Melissa?”

“Will Mr Tommy be there?” Sofia liked shy Mr Tommy.

“Of course, princess. In two weeks, you can go and see England for your vacation.”

“And then you’ll come?” Sofia asked again, unsure.

“Of course I’ll come.”

Hannibal watched as the girl fell asleep again, clutching a toy, possibly dreaming of England, the place she had always wanted to go. Hannibal wasn’t an emotional man, never considered himself one, but when he watched his girl sleeping, he felt his vision get blurry.

 _You gave her away,_ a voice whispered within him, evil and hateful.

“Hey, she’s asleep?” Will got back from work, popped his head in to check on Sofia. “Wait…what’s wrong?” He noticed Hannibal sit next to her bed, his head bowed, and it looked to Will like he had tears in his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he repeated.

Hannibal cleared his throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, yes, I told you you could choose to like or hate Melissa. I don't like her personally, she's being selfish, but the character I love the most in this story, even more than Hannibal, is Thomas Johnson. He's so...he's got depth ok. And really low self esteem.   
> Now, I would like you guys to go on in the comments section, tell me how much you hate me and stuff. There's going to be three more chapters (the last two is a sort of two part epilogue). Now you can go on, tell me how you want me to die, or want Melissa to die or whatever you like, but please do go in the comments.   
> I've already written these last three chapters after this so, yeah, go on, comment ok.


	11. Airport

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lecters take Sofia to the airport because they had to. It was what they had to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp welp welp, there it is!  
> 1\. Y'all gave me such cool ideas in the last chapter, like Thomas killing Melissa and stuff, but I already wrote this long ago sorry babes  
> 2\. What Zeller got for Christmas in Chapter 10 was a CONDOM ok. Like, a set.  
> 3\. I saw someone talk about this on Tumblr, GUYS I KNOW HANNIBAL WONT MAKE A GOOD DAD, THATS WHY THIS IS A FLUFF/AU SORT OF THING JEEZ
> 
> Ok I luv u all  
> Okay, so like yeah this chapter is a bit longer than the others, but I knew if I split it further y'all would slaughter me, so go ahead, happy reading *snorts yeah ok happy lol*

_One week later_

Thomas felt himself shiver.

Sleeping next to him, was Melissa, a small, contented smile on her face. She had been sleeping smiling, for a week now, ever since she found out she would get to take Sofia back to England with them forever. Thomas loved that little smile on that gorgeous face. But whenever he remembered why she was smiling, he felt sick to him stomach, like he was feeling now. He remembered the tears she sometimes cried at night, ever since she found out that her daughter was with the Lecters. But he also remembered how, when Thomas had come back empty handed form the airport, seven years ago, she had shrugged her shoulders, cried a little, and then gave her up.

Thomas knew how hard it was to bring up a child, and they hadn’t done it, the Lecters had. He would tell her. He wanted to tell her. His hands twisted convulsively on the sheet, his face screwing up. Melissa awoke, looked at him, and smiled that enchanting smile.

“What is it? You’re awake.”

“Don’t take her.” He managed to croak out, his voice sounding strangled. “Don’t take her from them.”

“Are you having a nightmare, Thomas? She’s ours, remember? You wanted her just as much as I did!” And with that, Melissa pouted, and turned back over, falling into sleep again, forgetting. Thomas, beside her, started sweating profusely, his face rapidly flushing. He had tried telling his goddess, his lover, but it hadn’t worked.

He wanted to be sick.

If only he wasn’t Thomas Johnson.

\-----------------------………………..

“How could you do that?” Will whispered to his lover, the hushed sort of yell-whisper parents use to fight when their child was in the other room. Will felt the rule could be broken today (although he didn’t break it) due to the fact that the child in question was in the other room, excitedly packing her belongings for a trip she didn’t know would last forever. “How could you give her away, Hannibal?”

“ I did not give her away.” Hannibal’s voice was brusque as he prepared Sofia’s nightcase. “She wasn’t ours to take, Will, have you forgotten?”

Will hadn’t forgotten.

“But, she abandoned her, _eight years,_ Hannibal. She abandoned her child for eight years, I’m quite sure we could g…”

“She abandoned _her_ child for eight years, Will. Not our child---”

Heels clacked on the tiles, muffling whatever Hannibal was going to respond. Sharp, clacking, angry heels, and the owner, Alana Bloom, strode straight up to where Hannibal stood, not pausing for anything, and slapped him across the face once, hard.

The imprint of five slender fingers stood out on Hannibal’s pale cheeks.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Alana didn’t say anything, only turned around, and walked out of the door, tears slipping down her cheeks.

“You said she was yours!” Will slammed his hands on the countertop, sending a small doll flying. “You said she was ours forever, you bloody said everything and now you can give her away like she is a _toy_?” He hit his hands on the table again, and screwed up his face in fury.

“Will, she is not ours. Not biologically.” Hannibal tried to explain, setting straight the items on the table. “We have taken care of her for eight years, sort of like a nanny program.” Hannibal tried hard to make a joke, he tried so hard.

“Wait..” Will’s smile broke his tense face in half. “Wait, Hannibal, don’t you remember?” Will laughed excitedly.  Hannibal wondered what had become of the other man. Had he finally broken?

“Remember the letter she wrote us?” He clapped his hands. “She said she didn’t want her child anymore, we could pursue a court case with that, she _said_  she didn’t want her!”

Hannibal closed his eyes.

“I had destroyed the letter.” He said, shortly, not looking up.

“Why?” Will’s smile dissipated and his face broke in confusion. “Hannibal, you’ve never destroyed a single letter, or record, why would you destroy this one?”

“Because…” Hannibal spat out the truth, leaving a vile taste in his mouth. “Because she was asking for her child back, Will.”

“So you lied to me then?” Will whispered. “You lied to me so we could keep her?”

Hannibal had hated many people in his life. Hated them with a burning passion, hated them enough to kill them and cook them for a nutritious stew. He hated some people enough to not even bother to be polite to them. But in that moment, Hannibal never hated anyone more than he hated himself.

“I did.” He admitted roughly. “I lied to you. I destroyed the letter, so we could keep the child.”

“Only to give her away eight years later, when it is so much worse, so bloody much worse for us, and for her? Don’t you ever think of anyone but _yourself_ , Hannibal?” Will snapped at his lover, fury carousing through his veins.

“Mel is willing to cover the costs of everything we have spent so far. She will reimburse all the costs of---“ Hannibal was cut off by a loud yell from Will.

“AND TAKE AWAY OUR KID!” Will turned back to Hannibal, forgetting to whisper in his rage. “You selfish bastard, you _knew_ she would come back, but you LET IT, because can’t bloody think of an---“

“Shut up!” Hannibal raised his own voice, something he would never do, but today his nerves were drawn so tight he felt he would literally break.  “You have this notion that it is _easy_ for me to give her away, that I never cared for her my---“

“Daddy?” Sofia stood in the doorway, clutching a book, which would soon be packed into a suitcase. “Papa? Why are you fighting?”

Will smoothed out his face quickly, taking in the sight of his daughter. Her dark curls tumbled softly to her shoulders and her eyes were wide open, in confusion at her parents yelling at each other.  She walked forward, let herself be hugged by Will, who buried his face in her neck, trying hard not to embarrass himself by crying.  “Sofia,…” He tried, biting out the words, plastering a smile to his face, even if tears shone in his dark eyes. “Are you packed for England?” Sofia’s face changed, excitement shining brightly.

“Yes, I have! But I haven’t taken some of my toys, so you have to bring them when you come to take me back, will you?”

“Sofia, we—“ Will started to tell his daughter they wouldn’t come back, that there was _no_ coming back, but Hannibal interrupted him.

“Of course we will.” He smiled at her.  “All your toys, princess.”

Sofia grinned and turned back to Will.

“When will you come to see me, Daddy?” she asked, tugging on his hand. “How many days?”

“Um..um…ten days, and we’ll be there. Ten days, okay?” Will promised brokenly.

“Okay, will you bring Winston?”

“Of course, he can’t wa-wait to sniff the English poodles rear ends.” Hannibal told her.

“Why aren’t you smiling?”

“I am, see?” Will pointed to his face, smiling grotesquely, forcedly. “Papa too!”

Hannibal plastered a grin on his face, sickly and uncertain.

Will almost broke. “Okay,” he smiled at her. “Why don’t you go get dressed? I’ll take you outside to the toy store, buy you just _one_ more toy to take on the trip, all right?” Sofia smiled excitedly and ran out of the room, clutching the book she ran inside with. The moment she closed the door, Will turned to Hannibal, his face vicious, almost grotesque.

“I hope you’re happy with yourself.” He spat out.

-.-.-.

Thomas Johnson stood in the toy store, blankly. Melissa had told him to get a toy for Sofia, or a book, or something she might like. Thomas surveyed all the fluffy dolls, and animals and he wondered what to give a child who he hadn’t raised. They didn’t know her likes, her dislikes. She was, of course, only about seven, she would adapt. But would he? He felt a headache come on. He wanted to run away and die, but he knew what they would say at his funeral. ‘That ungrateful Thomas Johnson’ they would say, ‘such a gorgeous wife, and a pretty little girl! And look at him, so plain, so boring! Ungrateful boy!’ Thomas heard a child laughing a few alleys away, and coming down this aisle, was Will Graham.

Thomas had seen Will a few times, but thanks to his own crippling shyness, he didn’t stop to ever introduce himself, or talk. He had seen and noticed Will, though, and he remembered the man always hugging his daughter, always saying something cheeky, or rude to his lover. Thomas thought he could talk to him, the man seemed a lot like himself, painfully self aware, and overly shy. They were both in love with perfect human beings, except Will Graham seemed happy with his.

 _Not anymore, thanks to you_ a voice screamed at Thomas.

He stretched out his hand.

“My name is Thomas J-Johnson.” He told Will, noting the dark circles under the man’s eyes, the way he looked so tired, and his mouth turned down.

Will looked at his hand blankly, and nodded at him, and then his eyes flashed in recognition.

“Oh.” He said roughly. “I hope y---“

“I’m sorry.” Thomas felt his face flushing a dull, unbecoming red. “I’m so sorry, Will Graham. I am so sorry, but I’m just Thomas…I’m sorry.”

Will nodded blankly, frowning, not understanding, and looked at Thomas’s retreating back, sweaty and flushed.

He felt his pain, and he felt sorry for him.

I’m just Thomas.

Sorry.

\----

Hannibal bit back a retort, and leaned back against the desk as Will had stormed out of the room. He could explain, and Will would listen, and he could tell him. He could kill Mel, but hadn’t he tried that once? He wondered how Sofia would do in England. Would she pick up the English accent, and speak in a posh tongue? Would she forget them, and would her life revolve around English muffins and picnics and scones with Mel and Thomas? Hannibal’s hands shook slightly as he heard Will and Sofia exit the house, Will slamming the door uncharacteristically. He clenched his fists, and climbed the ladder unsteadily, and ran his hands along the volumes of dusty books. His hands touched the last shelf.

_How To Take Care of A Baby. A Single Dad’s Guide To Parenting. Raising Kids in a Gay Atmosphere. Parenting for Dummies. Common Colds and Other Childhood Ailments. Children’s Allergies and What To Do About Them. How To Potty Train a Baby._

Hannibal looked at the books, one by one, as he methodically ripped them up, and threw the pieces on the floor. His face was covered in a sheen of sweat as he ripped up the bound covers, kicked the entire shelf dedicated to this topic. Eight minutes and thirty seven seconds later, he gathered up the pieces, sweat running down his back, and deposited them in the fireplace. He watched the flames roar into life, watched them eat the remnants of the books. He remembered how he had done the same thing, eight years earlier, with a letter. He remembered how he felt so bloody angry, but it was nothing compared as to what he was feeling _now._ His hands still shook.

He opened the basement door, the very basement that was hidden carefully, the one the others did not know about. The very basement where he once butchered people, but now which he used to clean the remnants of his kills from knives. He switched on the light, and looked at the pictures he had hung up on the walls, a sort of _physical_   Memory Palace, strung up with pictures of Will, drawings of Will, and Sofia, portrait shots of Sofia, carefully duplicated and framed in the basement, so that Hannibal could look at them while he had killed, or tortured. He picked up the nearest picture, a small photograph of Sofia grinning up at him, showing her baby teeth, her curls awry about her face.

_Princess?_

He smashed it on the floor.

_Papa!_

He took another picture of her, this time she was on a swing, laughing excitedly, hair flying. He threw it against the wall, hard, the crash resonating. He breathed heavily. He took another picture, and actually stepped on it, ground the glass between the soles of his shoes and the floor. He kicked the table containing her baby photos, and they crashed to the floor loudly, as they broke, one by one. There was an unframed copy of a drawing Sofia had drawn at six years of age. He tore it up, let the pieces flutter to the floor. His heart thudded loudly, blood pounded in his head, and it was odd though, that he was perfectly calm when he was killing someone. Satisfied at the broken frames, at the destroyed glass all around him, he picked up the nearest picture, lying on the floor, cutting his fingers on the glass in the process. It was that picture. The first picture the had taken, of the three of them together, when Sofia was ten months old and started saying her first words. The picture was unharmed, only the glass broken. Hannibal winced, and looked around. None of the pictures were destroyed, they were all intact, perfect even, although broken glass lay around them. Perfect pictures in a sea of broken glass. And with that thought, Hannibal sunk down in the middle of all the shards of glass, and age old pictures, and put his head in his hands.

.

“Well, goodbye, love.” Will tried not to cry again, biting his lips. In the harsh glare of the airport lights, he winced as Sofia kissed him on the cheek. “You be a good girl in England okay? Be nice to Mel and Thomas.”

“Okay, Daddy. You’ll come in ten days, and I can show you the London Eye, okay? If you aren’t scared of heights of course!” She laughed, clutching her new doll.

Will’s responding laugh sounded like a sob, and he drew her close and hugged her. He hugged her tight, for all the hugs he wouldn’t be able to give, ever. Sofia hugged him back, because this is how she thought you said goodbye, she’d never said goodbye before.  “Its okay, Daddy, you shouldn’t cry. It’s only ten days, see, _I’m_ not crying.” She said proudly, pointing to her own exuberant face.

“That’s my girl.” He let go of her and turned away quickly, as Sofia turned to Papa, who was standing a bit further off, his back to them, and threw her arms around him, squeezing the breath out of him.

“My, my, Princess Sofia.”  He smiled at her, clasping her shoulders. “You’re going to be really strong, aren’t you?”

“What will you bring me, when you come to England?” Sofia asked tracing Papa’s face.

“I’ll bring you the biggest doll you can see. I’ll bring you the…longest book you’ve ever read.” Hannibal promised shallowly. “I’ll bring you chocolates, and I’ll bring you…”

“A well done steak?” They both laughed together, and Hannibal gathered his not-daughter close, buried his face in her, smelt her sweet, clean scent, the perfect smell she’d had since she was a baby.

“You’re mine, princess…” He whispered to her, although it wasn’t true, and it never would be.

“Ok, Papa. I’ll draw you a picture and send it!” She told him, not knowing the extent of the lie.

And she let go of him, as Will came back, and clasped Mel’s hand, shining, radiant Mel, and her odd, flustered Thomas, who looked like he was about to cry. She clasped Mel’s hand and crossed the airport barrier with them, looking back once at the two men, who were waving at her. They watched her, they watched her closely, until she passed the checkout line with her parents, _her parents_ , and Will could hear he, he could actually hear her crying as a baby, he could hear her incessant toddler-esque questions, he could hear her laughing when they tried to explain sex. He could hear Sofia’s clamour for a new doll, or how she would play with the stiff and conservative Hannibal, and laugh at dirty jokes she didn’t understand with Zeller and Price. He could hear her chewing on her favourite grilled cheese and chicken sandwich.

And he turned, and bolted into the toilet, shut the door behid him, and sank to the floor and began to cry.  

Hannibal, standing at the airport did not notice how Will left. He only could think of one thing. Her favourite food. He forgot to mention to Mel Sofia’s favourite food, and she would be too shy to tell her. He forgot to mention how she liked the cheese to be grilled _first_ and then followed by the chicken. He forgot to mention how she preferred white bread on the snadwich instead of the healthier brown bread. He forgot, oh God, he forgot.

He had forgotten to tell Melissa to call her Princess.

He crossed the barrier at a run, brushing off security questions, and stopped at the checkout, showing his credentials to the security guard. “My name is Doctor Lecter, forty two, psychatrist, I’ve left something…something extremely important with someone who is crossing.”

“’Ow do I know you won’t board the plane?”

“I do not have a boarding pass.” Hannibal hissed.

“Ok, but leave your briefcase and wallet here. You can’t go past Gate Three.”

He dumped his belongings on the plastic table and ran up the escalator, and ran down the hallway. He ran until his chest hurt, but he did not stop until he saw dark brown curls and a pale hand waving at him from a small airport café.  “Hi, Papa!” she yelled, standing up, holding a chocolate bar, and her doll. “Are you going to come to England with us? You should bring Daddy too, he’ll be lonely.” She asked, as he drew closer, and stopped infront of the café.

For once, just once, Hannibal ignored Sofia, and turned to Mel.

“She likes to be called princess. Her favourite food is grilled cheese and chicken sandwiches.” He told the startled woman, who had dropped her coffee on the table. “You don’t have to cut off the crusts, and you have to-you h-have to toast the cheese first. White bread, not brown. She doesn’t like full cream milk, and she doesn’t like salted corn, only sweet. She takes her steaks well done, but only once a week. She likes to play Hide-and-Seek, but she usually hides in a very obvious spot. Her favourite toys are the dolls which can bend any way whatsoever.”

Hannibal felt himself start to breathe unevenly, felt his throat burning.

“She doesn’t like rock music, but she listens to the funny pop music. Her TV time ends at seven o’ clock after which it is time for supper and bed. She likes to watch the commercials after the shows, and she knows fourteen television advertisments by heart. “ He swallowed thickly. “She likes to draw, but she likes color pencils more than crayons, and she prefers to paint instead of colour. She hates brussels sprouts but she adores the taste of broccoli. She wo-she won’t sleep at night unless you tell her a story from one of her books, and you have to kiss her cheek thrice, and promise, and promise to be the one who wakes her up .And-and sh-she likes to be called princess.”

“She likes to be called Princess.” Hannibal repeated again, his voice hoarse with effort.

Mel looked enraged, yet guilty, frightened.

“Are you trying to bribe her back? Are you trying to actu---“

“ _Stop_!” It wasn’t Hannibal who had spoken, nor was it Sofia, but instead, it was the thin man in the glasses and the receding blonde hair.

It was plain old Thomas Johnson who had spoken.

“Melissa, we don’t know anything. We didn’t raise her. Melissa….I” He cleared his throat. “I don’t know. I don’t want to raise a child that…that we… She’s theirs, Melissa. She…um…She loves them, its so obvious… Uh… It’s always Daddy, or Papa this, Daddy or Papa that. She’s seven, almost eight, she won’t..um. She won’t love us lik…uh…like that.” Thomas started to flush, hoping he wasn’t saying the wrong thing. “Um, yeah… they’re blokes but I think they can raise her. Uh…they love her, that’s more that can be…um…said for us. I like her, and you only love her because…because she’s yours…not because…um…um. Not cause’ she’s Sofia. _Look at him, Mel._ They love her.”

Thomas inhaled.

“Y-You’re being a bitch, Melissa. You’re being a bitch t-to them. I can’t just _watch_ you t-take their child.”

Thomas felt sick. His chest seemed to cave in.

“It’s our child.” Melissa whispered, startled at her husband’s outburst.

“No.” Thomas felt exhilaration waning. “It’s their child now, Melissa. You know t-that. Y-you’ll treat her like a toy, because when we take her back and see we don’t know the slightest bit about her, you’ll get _bored_.”

And Thomas, flustered and red at having to say something so cross to his wife, expected the sky to fall down and crush him. How dare he, thin, British Thomas Johnson, plain teacher dare tell the goddess what to do. Thomas felt sick to his stomach. He wanted to say sorry, but he looked over at Doctor Lecter standing there, his jacket flying open, his hair messed up and windswept, his throat working with emotion. He saw, in his minds’ eye, Will Graham at the toy store, with his dark circles, and his downturned mouth. And he wasn’t sorry.

Melissa only crushed Sofia to her, the little girl bewildered at whatever that was going on, but accepted the hug.

“You’ll have plenty of visits, you know. Plenty of visits.” She muttered, tears creeping down her face.

Hannibal closed his eyes in despair, turned to walk back to Will. Thomas wanted to hide in a hole and never come out, ever.

“You’ll have plenty of visits from…from your Auntie Mel, and Uncle Thomas, okay?”

“Oh. Okay.” Sofia raised her eyebrows, wondering what was with the sudden turn of events.

“Go to your Papa, sweetheart. We’ll come visit you soon.”

Sofia kissed her biological mother on the cheek once (although she didn’t really deserve it).

And she ran to Hannibal, and clasped his arm, and he turned around, once, to Mel, and especially, to Thomas, who looked red and flustered. He nodded to them, a silent thanks, and they walked back slowly across the airport terminal, holding hands, back to Will.

“Won’t we go to England, Papa?” Sofia inquired, the chocolate bar melting rapidly.

Hannibal did not trust himself to speak, and instead, shook his head, as he saw Will’s face change from desperation, to confusion, and then infinite joy as he kissed Sofia repeatedly, tears running down his face as he thanked Hannibal over and over again, silently with his eyes, and held his princess close.

And Hannibal Lecter watched the scene, and he clasped Sofia (who was wondering why the men were getting so dramatic, she was only going to go for ten days, wasn’t she?) to his chest, and finally allowed his eyes to well up, and he breathed shakily into her hair.

“I didn’t go.” Sofia told Papa, whom she had never, _ever_ seen cry before. “I didn’t go, Papa”

“I know, princess.” Hannibal’s voice broke.

“Don’t cry, Papa. Please don’t cry.” Sofia was a little scared, this was Papa, purveyor of hidden chocolates, reader of night-stories, official page to the princess. He didn’t cry, he _couldn’t._

“Sorry, princess.” Hannibal managed to choke out, smiling at her, smelling her sweet hair. “I’m not crying.”

 Will watched them, remembering how they had found the child on their doorstep, how _he_ found the red faced, crying bundle, whom Hannibal had planned to name Nu. E. Sance, the small whirlwind who had yanked out Hannibal’s chest hair and bit Will multiple times and would wet every blanket.

That night they watched her sleep on her trademark princess blankets, and in her hands, she clutched a small doll, the very same they had chosen five years ago.

“I love you for that, you know?” Will kissed his lover, hard on the lips. “For getting her back.”

“What else could I do?” Hannibal smiled, looking at Sofia, who turned a little. He heard Will walk out of the room, and he stroked her hair, looked at how peaceful she looked, with her dolls tucked up next to her.

He felt his eyes blur again, but he smiled.

“Goodnight then, princess.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this probably isn't a surprise. I actually had to work on this chapter a bunch, changing this and that, because this was literally the 4th chapter I wrote, so I had to rework it a bit, giving Thomas a part and stuff.  
> (OK YES I KNOW THAT YOU CANT JUST RUN BLINDLY THROUGH AN AIRPORT AND I KNOW THIS ENDING IS HEAVILY CLICHE BUT I DONT WANT SOFIA TO LEAVE OK)  
> So, I loved the feedback so much on the last two chapters, like, I loved it a LOT, so I would love it even further if you left the same kind of feedback on this <3  
> THIS IS NOT the final chapter  
> There are going to be 2 or 3 more after this, showing time gone by...well its a sort of surprise ok, which you'll get tomorrow.  
> But please, do leave your comments and thoughts here <3  
> O look below its the comment button clicky clicky


	12. Sofia's Wedding: Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sofia finally says yes to a wedding, but now it turns out the parents are overly Christian, and do not support homosexuality. Whatever can Hannibal and Will do, to hide this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know, I tried to make this funny ok...  
> (The plotline for this is from an old movie i watched, with Robin Williams and stuff, about 2 gay guys acting straight for a wedding)   
> Part 2 will be up tomorrow, happy reading!

Fifteen years had passed, fifteen years had gone by, it seemed, in the time it would have taken a child Sofia to sing a nursery rhyme. But it had to pass, and with willing, encouraging eyes, Hannibal and Will watched their daughter grow up, they watched her develop into a young woman, they forced Alana to explain to her what puberty was, Hannibal made sure that she didn’t date until she was seventeen, and made short work (flavoured soup) out of all the men that dared to ogle the pretty, dark haired girl that ran down the streets, shopping for luxury food items.

Time had been incredibly kind to Hannibal. One would even say that he looked almost exactly the same as he had fifteen years ago, except for the slow silvering of his hair, which he kept at bay (cheated, according to Will) by using the finest European hair dye. Will had no qualms about letting his hair turn grey at the temples, and let it silver gracefully, often taunting Hannibal about how he chose to colour his sleek hair, and go for regular facials.

“Dad! Papa!” Sofia had matured in years, of course, she was twenty three years old now, a gorgeous, curly-locked girl, but she still ran into the house with the same clumsy abandon that she once ran with, when she was a child.

“Yes, what is this urgent matter that is so urgent you almost knocked over my bust of Venus?” Hannibal asked, glaring at the marble statue that almost toppled.

“I SAID YES!” Sofia shrieked, hugging Will, who looked confused.

“Said yes to what?” The detective asked, frowning.

“Well, Raoul asked me to marry him, of course, and I said yes!” She grinned, and clapped her hands excitedly.

Hannibal’s eye twitched.

“You just accepted a proposal of marriage from your…boyfriend, is that what you’re saying?” Hannibal asked gingerly.

“He’s my fiancee, now!” Sofia squealed. “Isn’t it exciting, Alana and Beverly are going to be taking me shopping for a dress, and then we fixed the wedding on the fifth of July.”

That was only two months from now, Will thought alarmedly.

“Isn’t it amazing?” Sofia asked again, her eyes shining.

Will glanced over at his lover, and tried to stifle a smile. Hannibal had only just gotten used to the idea of his daughter dating, and now he had to cope with marriage.

“Of course it is, sweetheart. We’re very happy for you. Hannibal too.” He poked Hannibal in his expensive suit-coated rib.

“Yes. Of course. But aren’t you rushi…” Hannibal tried, but he was cut off by Will.

“So when can we meet his parents?” Will asked, feeling excitement welling in him. He was over forty years old and he still felt excited over a wedding. But then, it _was_ Sofia’s wedding, wasn’t it?

“Yeah…that’s the problem…” Sofia trailed off, looking sheepish and nervous.

“Are they trailer park homeless persons? Are they crippled? _Are they rude_?” Hannibal hissed the last word as if it was poison.

“No…um…they’re really Christian, see?” Sofia tried nervously.

“So?” Will snorted, looking amused. “We can pretend to be religious, we could borrow some clegry robes, make Hannibal memorize the Bible and recite it…”

“No, I mean, you two are gay!” Sofia cried, since they missed the obvious. “They won’t approve of that, you know.”

“Oh, right” Will said flatly, raising his eyebrows.

Hannibal almost smirked, maybe the wedding wouldn’t happen at all, but he saw the dejected look on Sofia’s face, and knew that there had to be something done.

“I’ll say what, Princess.” He told her and Will. “Call your aunty Mel, she’ll pretend to be your mother, well, she is, after all, isn’t she? And one of us can be your father, and the other one can be your uncle. So we could pretend to be a nuclear family.” Hannibal felt a little devious, but it was fine, under the circumstances.

“Papa, that’s brilliant!” Sofia cried, kissing Hannibal on the cheek, running off to call Melissa, whom she knew was her biological mother, but didn’t really care, thus stuck to calling her Aunty Mel. She adored Uncle Thomas though.

“She says she can’t…” Sofia came back after a moment, looking sad. “She said she’d try but she’s caught up in Australia.”

“Try asking Alana.” Will cut in. “She looks enough like you, doesn’t she?”

“No.” Alana replied when they told her. “No way. I am _not_ getting involved in a family feud, especially when it concerns your wedding.” Alana started laughing, then. “It will be literally the most hilarious thing ever to see you two pretend to not be gay though.”

“Alana, you must consider the girl’s…” Hannibal tried to plead.

“No way, Hannibal.”

“Dad, there’s no one else we could ask!” Sofia looked panicked. “They’re coming in twenty four hours!”

“Wait, I have to go take a call from Jack!” Alana ran out of the room.

Slowly, they both turned to look at Will.

“An inch or two of makeup…” Hannibal observed.

“Shave off that stubble….” Sofia agreed.

“Add some padding where required…” Doctor Lecter noted.

“And maybe some lipstick, and make him change his voice a bit?” His daughter finished.

Will got the point.

“NO. WAY.” Will exclaimed. “Hannibal, Sofia, there is no way I am meeting the parents of your husband in drag clothing! No! I will not!”

“But Daddy, my wedding will be ruined! I _love_ Raoul.” Sofia’s eyes filled with tears and Hannibal put his arm around her, smirking triumphantly at Will.

“Will, why wouldn’t you want to help Princess out on her wedding date?” Hannibal asked, a malicious smile contorting his features. “Do you want to ruin her life?”

Will glared at Hannibal. The man was obviously enjoying this.

“Fine. But only this once. After that you can say I died. Agreed?”

Sofia wiped her eyes, and winked at Hannibal. “Promise. Now, Papa, you’ll be the father, then.”

Hannibal raised his eyebrows. “Am I not a father already?”

“No, I mean…” Sofia fumbled “…you can’t, like…”

“What?”

“You’ve got to act less _gay_ infront of them!”

Hannibal’s eyes widened, and he actually staggered back a step.

“I have never let a hint of my sexuality slip to the outside world. No one looking at me, or talking to me impersonally will even suggest that I am homose---“ Hannibal’s outraged tirade was cut off by Sofia running a hand through his hair, and then putting her hand on a piece of paper. The paper immediately soaked through with a layer of grease.

“You’ve got a ton of hair wax on.” Sofia said, and then she wiped a finger across his face, and wiped it on the paper, which promptly turned a subtle shade of peach.

Alana came back to watch Sofia arguing with Hannibal over cosmetics. Her day was brilliant.

“You’re wearing foundation, Papa. Heterosexual men don’t wear foundation.” Sofia finished, as Alana started laughing again, whipping out her cellphone to text Beverly. _OMG Dr Lecter wears foundation ASDFGHJKL._

“I’m going now.” Alana said, waving. “There is no way I’ll get involved in this!”

Will snorted, since he wasn’t the one being embarassed now.

“Papa, when you meet the Wartons, you can’t have foundation on your face! Or all that weird…gel stuff in your hair! You can’t drink tea with your pinky finger sticking out.” Sofia pointed out bluntly.

“It is etiquette to have manners at the dining table.” Hannibal muttered indignantly.

“It’s gay, Papa.” Sofia raised her eyebrows. “Now, Daddy, you’ve got to come with me and Beverly, we’ll make sure you look like a fine woman.”

Will winced.

Hannibal smirked.

-

The next day, Will came back, surrounded by a radiant looking Sofia, who waved her phone in Hannibal’s face. “He’s coming in ten minutes, we have Daddy back in time! Are you ready, Papa?”

Hannibal narrowed his eyes at her, and glanced at Will.

His jaw dropped. Will was dressed as a beautiful woman, his stubble entirely gone, a wig in place instead of his coarse, curly hair, his eyes accentuated with mascara and heavy kohl. More foundation than Hannibal wore in a month was plastered across his face, turning him an odd shade of pinkish white. His mouth was lined in pale pink lipstick, Beverly’s best, although the mouth was sullen and sulking and the eyes looked furious. To an ordinary observer, Will looked like a drop-dead gorgeous older woman. To Hannibal, he looked hideous.

“This is one of the times I am reminded why I am not attracted to women.” Hannibal closed his eys, hissed, as Sofia fluttered closer toward him.

“Papa, are you wearing foundation?” Sofia asked him.

“No.”

“Did you put a ton of brilliantine in your hair?”

Hannibal glared at his daughter. “As you can see by my extremely limp and disgusting hair, no, Sofia my princess, I have not.”

“Please do not go on and on about the homoerotic works of DaVinci, okay?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare.” Hannibal muttered sarcastically.

The doorbell rang sharply, and Hannibal answered the door to an incredibly dashing looking older couple, both in the strictest, conservative dress. Mrs Warton was clad in black from head to toe, and looked demeaningly at Hannibal’s red and brown fitted suit. Mr Warton actually had a clergical collar on, and looked more like a priest than any of the actual priests Hannibal had seen. Their twenty five year old son, Raoul, stood behind them, grinning at Will. Raoul, of course, knew about the entire act the family was putting up, and hoped it wouldn’t fail.

Sofia poked Will in the back.

“Oh hello there, loves! I’m Mrs Lecter!” Will put on a high pitched voice, which made Hannibal want to throw up his lunch.

“Hello.” Mrs Warton smiled stiffly, and introduced herself. “I’m Elizabeth Warton.”

“John Abraham Warton. Clergyman.” The man nodded and shook Hannibal’s hand firmly.

“Hannibal Lecter.” Hannibal smiled politely. “Consulting psychatrist.”

“Hannibal?” Bothe their noses wrinkled in disgust. “Is that a Christian name?” Asked Mrs Warton.

“Oh, of course.” Hannibal lied smoothly. “It’s in…”

“The book of…Job!” Sofia cried out, hugging Mrs Warton, as she knew her previously. “On the last page…or something…”

“And what about you?” Mr Warton adressed Will.

“I’m Mrs Lecter.” Will said stupidly.

“Your Christian name, dear.” Mrs Warton smiled at the pretty woman, she was obviously nervous.

“Will….” Will supposed. “Will…erina. Willerina Lecter.”

Sofia disguised a snort as a sneeze, and Raoul tried not to giggle out loud.

“Willerina…both of you have strange names, do you not? Mr Warton observed, as he looked around the house. “You have an impressive house, Doctor Lecter, the furnishing looks very tasteful, as well as the brocade and tapes---WHAT in abomination is that?”

Mrs Warton gasped in horror.

Sofia closed her eyes in dread. What the elderly couple were staring at, horrifiedly, were the sketch Hannibal had drawn of Will, fifteen years ago. It was boldly done, exquisite in detailing and shading, the features exact and perfect. The whites shone white, and the shading was perfect to the dot, except Will was fully nude. And Hannibal had made him extra well-endowned on the lower side, so the picture was especially startling.

“….that was done by…” Hannibal muttered quickly, trying to improvise.  “Mrs Lecter! Yes, it was done by Mrs Lecter! She likes men very much, but…she isn’t very good at drawing. It’s supposed to be…me.”

Sofia was proud of the way Hannibal lied, yet a little creeped out.

“You?” Mr Warton raised his eyebrows. “It looks nothing like you, man!”

“I know, I know, she is so untalented, but she insisted on having it framed!” Hannibal tried to throw an experasted look at Will.

“But you have brown hair, this drawing has dark black hair, and stubble!” Mrs Warton said, suspiciously.

Damn these Wartons, thought Hannibal.

“I had black hair and stubble when I was a young lad of twenty…” Hannibal tried to dramatize. “Not anymore, I have shorn my hair, and dy…”

“Now this is more my taste.” Mr Warton smiled at a picture of the Mona Lisa, who smiled serenely back.  “A good print, this is.”

“Yes,” Hannibal felt he was in his element at last. “Did you know, DaVinci was an ardent, flamboyant homosexual, and his muse for Mona Lisa could have been a male? He was also a very strong person who stood against the church as well as….” Hannibal trailed off at the look on Sofia’s furious face. “I suppose we shall have dinner, then?”

Fifteen miles away, Alana hurtled towards the Lecters’ residence in her car, deciding to help out the Lecter’s in their moment of need. “Hello, I’m Alana Lecter.” She practiced saying in the mirror, smiling softly, so that it didn’t seem suspicious. “I’m Sofia’s mother.” She nodded, and put her foot on the clutch, so the car would drive faster.

She didn’t after all, want to be late for her surprise appearance as Mrs Lecter.

Twenty four miles away, Melissa Johnson egged on her husband, who was already driving at the speed limit. “Quick, Thomas, we can’t be late for this! All right, now listen to me practice.”

“Go ahead,” laughed Thomas, his eyes on the road. Thomas laughed easier now, and he didn’t always have that heavy, sick ball of self-worthlessness in his stomach. He was stil skinny, pale and his hair was still pasty blonde, but now he was Thomas Johnson, MD. Doctor Johnson. And finally, _finally_ , he felt equal to Melissa.

“Hi, my name is Melissa Lecter, Sofia’s mother, and wife of Hannibal Lecter.”

Thomas snorted. “You may want to cut down on the married to Lecter bit.”

“But other than that, is it fine?” Melissa urged, smoothing her hair in the mirror.

She didn’t after all, want to be late for her surprise appearance as Mrs Lecter.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL.   
> Okay, so yeah I know a lot of time has gone by in this chapter, but I have exams soon, so there's going to be only one more chapter after this, but it's going to be pretty funny, as you can see from the setup here xD   
> ANYWAY  
> SO WHAT DO Y'ALL THINK ABOUT THIS  
> Will in drag ok.   
> Hannibal being all flustered  
> DOCTOR Thomas   
> I got like, a bunch of comments for the last three chapters, y'all musn't disappoint me, I'll be sad :(   
> So there be the comment button below you   
> Clickety click click


	13. Sofia's Wedding: Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lecters have somehow passed themselves off as a heterosexual couple, but what when two other women turn up claiming to be Mrs Lecter? Plus, the wedding!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELP there you go babes, the last chapter! *song used in wedding is I Loved Her First, its a pretty popular father of the bride type of song*

Hannibal, feeling himself feel flustered as he hadn’t done in years, quickly ushered the guests into the waiting room, and excused himself and Will as they rushed to the dining room, and covered up the portrait of Leda and the Swan. Hannibal breathed in and out experimentally. The Wartons thought they were an actual married couple, and heterosexual, albeit slightly strange.

“The mother isn’t really pretty is she, Raoul?” Mrs Warton hissed loudly to her son, in the next room. Raoul tried not to laugh.

“Yes, mother. She is unfortunate looking, I suppose.” Raoul wanted to giggle helplessly, but the angry stare on his finacee’s face quickly put a stop to that. “The father seems fine though, doesn’t he?”

“Well…yes…” Mr Warton considered. “Although he seems very misinformed about Da Vinci, and other art as well, I suppose. Fancy saying Da Vinci was a…” he shuddered “…homosexual.”

In the other room, Will and Hannibal exchanged stares.

“Did she call me not pretty?” Will hissed to his lover. “I know I’m dressed up ridiculously, but I thought I looked mighty pretty.”

“How dare that imbecile say I am misinformed. I would misinform his…” Hannibal shuddered into silence as the doorbell rang, and he ushered Will out, and joined the others. Sofia opened the heavy wooden door, only to behold Alana standing there, with a bright, false smile, and a bunch of flowers in her pale hands.

“Hi!” she stepped brightly over the threshold, and grinned at Mr and Mrs Warton, who looked startled at the sudden interruption. “I’m Alana Lecter, Sofia’s mum.” She stuck her hand out to Mrs Warton, who looked horrified.

“Polygamy…?” she whispered.

Sofia would have hit herself with a brick, and end it all, but then she had to save the situation, since Hannibal and Will were standing close by each other like a set of Russian dolls, eyes wide and mouths open in an almost comical look of surprise.  Raoul tried to conceal his eye twitching in anxiety, hoping Sofia would come up with some lie or another.

“Useless gits.” Sofia hissed to her fathers (who would normally have scolded her for such an expression, but let it slide this time, presumably because they were busy being shell shocked) , and proceeded to stand infront of Alana, hands firmly placed on her hips.

“Oh, come on, Mrs Warton, Mr Warton, do you honestly believe this lunatic? She lives down the road, and she looks at every girl that looks like her, and calls herself their mother. Her own kid died in childbirth…what a pity….pity…” Sofia trailed off, as Mr Warton’s eyebrows raised skeptically.

“Do I even _look_ like her?”

“Well, I suppose not…” Mrs Warton grudgingly admitted, surveying Alana, who’s jaw almost touched her chest in the same blur expression Hannibal and Will were sporting at the moment.

“Exactly!” Sofia cried, clinging on straws. “I look exactly like my own, dearest mother!” With that, she stood next to Will and smiled, and Will provided a ghastly grin of his own.

Mr Warton’s brow wrinkled, as the doorbell rang again. Sofia almost ran up the stairs, Raoul in hand, and jumped off the awnings. But she didn’t and only watched as the door opened, and Melissa popped in, smiling heartily at the party inside, followed by Thomas, who also grinned peevishly, ignoring Hannibal and Will’s doubled expressions of nauseous shock.

“Hi, I’m Melissa Lecter! Sofia’s mother, I was caught up a bit somewhere, that’s why I’m late! You must be my daughter’s soon to be parents in law?” Melissa cheerily intoned, smiling at the Mr Warton, who looked like he was going to throw up whatever he had had for luch.

“I’m… Hannibal’s brother. Tomas Lecter.” Thomas said unhelpfully. “Thomas without the H, its what we do in Lithuania. We take your Christian names and then we….”

“You’re not Christian?” Mrs Warton hissed, facing the horror of horrors.

“We are.” Hannibal widened his eyes at Thomas, hoping he would get the hint. “We are one hundred percent…um…full on again….Christians that worship the blood of the holy…lamb….and the…”

Will closed his eyes. For the first time in Will’s relationship, Hannibal Lecter was screwing up royally.

“How are there three Mrs Lecters?” Mr Warton snapped, getting to the main point, and for once in his life,ever since his dad had shoved a Bible in his face and told him it would save him from demons, ignoring Christianity.  “How does this girl have three mothers?” Mr Warton shot out again, praying this wasn’t some sort of orgy family.

Will closed his eyes. He would either save the scene, or make it worse.

He took his wig off. With it, he scrubbed the makeup , all two centimetres of it, off his face.

“My name is Will Graham.” He smiled bluntly. “This is Hannibal Lecter, we’re not related biologically to Sofia, but we’ve brought her up all her life.”

“What is your relationship?” wheezed out Mrs Warton, her head reeling. “Why do you both live together in the same house? Why would two men undertake the bringing up of a child?”

“They’re gay.” Alana shrugged. “They knew you wouldn’t accept that, and so they asked me to act as Sofia’s mum. I’m Alana Bloom, their friend. I didn’t know, however, that they had a backup plan.” She glared at Will, who looked appropriately sheepish.

“I’m Melissa Johnson,” the brunette smiled “I’m Sofia’s biological mother, although I haven’t been taking active part in her upbringing. They asked me if I could pose as Dr Lecter’s wife, and I was busy, but a loophole opened up at the last moment, so I caught the next plane over quick.”

“I’m not Tomas Lecter. I’m plain old Thomas Johnson.” Thomas grinned. “I’m Melissa’s husband, and I’m not related to Sofia. I just came over for support and stuff.”

Mr Warton was as white as a sheet, Raoul and Sofia clung hands, hoping to catch the next bus and run away from both their dysfunctional families. Mr Warton turned viciously to Hannibal. “And what about you?” he asked brusquely. “Do you have any secrets? Are you a woman? Or a man dressed as a woman dressed as a man?”

I’m a cannibal you prude, Hannibal felt like saying. I eat people.  But out loud, he only said

“No, no I haven’t hid anything much from you. Except for the fact I’m not ardently Christian.”

Mrs Warton echoed what everyone in that room felt, and promptly fell on the floor in a dead faint.

***

But as with all matters, Raoul and Sofia managed to fix whatever their parents had muddled, and the wedding was approved. Hannibal, whom Will always thought was too rich for his own good, pulled out all the stoppers for this wedding, and booked the best hall in the whole of Baltimore for the wedding. It already happened to be booked, but the couple in question seemed to have been mysteriously murdered in their beds. So Hannibal got his spot. The best catering had been invited all the way from France and Italy to help Hannibal  (“You can’t cook food for 350 people, Hannibal!” “Nonsense, Will.”), as well as the highest-charging vicar in the whole of Maryland (“Don’t you think you’re spending a bit too---“ “Nonsense, Will.”) as well as a horse for the bridegroom to ride into the wedding compound with (“Dr Lecter, I can’t ride a ho-“ “Nonsense, Raoul.”).

“So who’s going to give me away?” Sofia asked brightly, one week before the wedding, smiling at her fathers who were both immersed in crime journals. “Excuse me, who is giving me away?”

“There is no way I’m doing that.” Will raised his eyebrows. “I may be your dad, but I’m quite sure the entire Warton side of the family has heard of my crossdressing stunt. So no way.”

“Come on, Daddy?” Sofia wheedled. “You can’t just re---“

Will laughed. “Make Papa do it, I’ll get the first dance with you at the reception, all right?”

“All right. Papa, you’ll give me away.” Sofia told Hannibal matter-of-factly.

Hannibal looked up.

“What does giving you away entail, really? Am I forced to sing? Dance? Give a recital?” he asked her.

“No way, Papa.” Sofia rolled her eyes, “You just walk me down the aisle and…”

“Oh, a father of the bride role.” Hannibal nodded, understanding. “All right, princess. I’ll give you away.”

Giving Sofia away had been something Hannibal had been afraid of his entire life. First he had to give her away to Thomas Johnson at the airport. Then he was supposed to give her to Melissa at the airport. Giving Sofia away had been something that hounded Hannibal all his life, and he was the one who stopped each ‘giving away’, and to him, it seemed terribly unfair that he was the one who had to do the giving away this one final time.

-

But the wedding day dawned bright, clear and crisp, and the guests arranged themselves onto velvet chairs, embroidered with the bride and groom’s initials, and Raoul managed to ride in the compound without any horse related accidents. Crass older women, the entire FBI Behavioural Sciences Unit, as well as Sofia’s college friends assembled themselves noisily in rows. Sofia was with Alana in the bridal dressing room, her hair being teased into soft curls by a concentrating Beverly, a hairpin between her teeth.

“Got it!” she exclaimed, grinning, finally fixing one strand behind the girl’s ear, as Alana surveyed the bride up and down, smiling.

“You look gorgeous!” Alana exclaimed, hugging the girl whom she had fed as a baby, and along with Beverly, walked ahead of her as the music begun, Sofia not choosing her college friends to be her bridesmaids, but Beverly and Alana. Four year old Lillian Price ran ahead excitedly, strewing flowers in her path.

Thomas stood in front, looking at Raoul, and he reminded him painfully of a man he knew, one that wouldn’t stand up to his wife, one that was painfully self conscious. He hoped that Raoul wouldn’t be that man.

Hannibal stood at the beginning of the aisle, smiling dutifully at guests, and glaring at Will as he sauntered past in a tuxedo, winking. Jack Crawford was there, and he took up a seat near the front, as well as Freddie Lounds and Brian Zeller, finally married after years of on-and-off dating. Hannibal turned as the music started playing, and Alana and Beverly (naturally) smirked at him as they walked past him, and he turned around, looking for the source of the little laugh he heard.

Sofia wasn’t there yet, instead, it was a little girl, only four or six years old that stood there, clutching a boquet. It must be the flower girl, Hannibal mused as the girl strode down toward him, her dress trailing behind her, an excited smile on her young face. The child clasped Hannibal’s hand, and he was surprised, when the little girl whispered in his ear, “Let’s go, Papa.” He wondered how a six year old could reach that high, and he found that it was Sofia, it was actually Sofia, and she looked radiant, smiling and glowing, as Hannibal began to walk down the aisle, with her holding on tight to his arm.

He tried not to trip, or to make sure that Sofia didn’t trip, as they made their way down the aisle, and they reached Raoul, whom at this moment, pasty and skinny were not words used to describe him, and with one final glance at his princess, Hannibal handed her hand over to Raoul’s, forever.

And the vicar droned on, and the marriage was consummated, with Will’s eyes being unaturally teary, with Freddie, Brian and Jimmy cracking open simulatenous bottles of champagne, to signify the end of a dreary wedding, and the beginning of the reception party. The food was quickly laid out in the most attractive fashion (supervised by Hannibal, who stood over the kitchen staff with a machete and a glare), and the guests sitting down, expecting to hear about an hour’s worth of speeches, as Melissa and Raoul first toasted each other, and their parents, and their _adoptive parents_ (well, Sofia did), and almost everyone at the table.

“Daddy, it’s your turn.” Sofia quickly hissed to Will, who looked surprised.

“Tell Hannibal to do it first!” He whispered alarmedly.

“Papa, you.”

Hannibal laughed sardonically. “No. There is no way I am doing this speech first. I have nothing prepared. Will, now.”

And Will rose, glaring at Hannibal, and smiled at the guests nervously, wringing his hands.

“Um. Sofia isn’t ours, you know.”

Sofia closed her eyes in dread. Great way to begin, Daddy.

“We found her on a doorstep, and we took her in. We wanted to name her many things, Jane, Mischa, Hannibal even wanted to name her Nu.E.Sance.” The guests tittered appreciatively. “But, um, we settled on Sofia, spelled with an F, because it was better that way. And she stayed Sofia forever, and she grew up…she grew up brilliantly. You may say it’s because we brought her up well, or because she’s a good person at heart. But um, I say it’s because she’s Sofia. If she wasn’t, she wouldn’t be this…um, she wouldn’t be this perfect. So here’s to you, Sofia _Warton_ , to a brilliant life for you. Maybe you’ll visit your old dads sometimes, right?”

Of course, mouthed Sofia, on the verge of tears.  Now, of course, it was Hannibal’s turn, and everyone swivelled to him expectantly, and he stood up, hoping he wouldn’t actually stutter or anything Will-like, since he hadn’t prepared this at all.

“I spent my whole life, knowing I had to give Sofia away.” Hannibal began, improvising wildly, “I spent every day knowing that she was not mine, not biologically, and that I would have to part from her. First it was her nameless mother, whom I avoided. Then it was Melissa, who turned out to be her actual mother. We avoided that as well. And I thought I would never have to give Sofia away again, until the day she actually asked me to give her away. If someone had to take my princess away, I’m glad that it is Raoul, and you all know she has been spoilt rotten in our house.” The guests laughed, because they knew. “We have treated her like a princess, and now, Raoul, I expect you to treat her as a queen. Here’s to Sofia, and to Raoul.”

 The dance floor quickly cleared out, as a slow song played, obviously meant for Raoul and Sofia to begin, and begin they did, hands around waists, eyes boring into the other’s and the world spinning around them. The others soon slid onto the dance floor as well, college students rowdily taking over the stage, and stiff, elderly relatives from the Wartons’ side doing a sort of side-to-side movement that could hardly be classified as a dance. Sofia let go of Raoul, after the song ended, and waltzed across the floor to Will, and whisked him onto the floor, as a song obviously meant for the father of the bride played on the high-quality speaker systems.

_Look at the two of you, dancing that way,_

_Lost in the moment, in each other’s face,_

_So much in love, you’re alone in this place,_

_Like there’s nobody else in the world._

If Hannibal saw a six year old Sofia walking down the aisle, Will, as he danced with his daughter, only saw the five month old that they had found on the doorstep. Will could only see, as Sofia twirled with him, the baby crying rentlessly, colicky, and how his lover had asked him to give her his breast to shut her up. He could only remember how they planned to buy a plastic breast, as well as the unforgettable image of Hannibal shaking a rattle. He could only remember feeding the baby, who spat up every dinner, and soiled every diaper in an hour. And Sofia laughed, and hugged Will on the dance floor, and all he could think of was the baby who had bit him hard on his shoulder, and yanked off Hannibal’s chest hair, the baby that would only sleep when Will walked her a certain way. And when Will smiled, and pulled away, leaving Sofia to go find Hannibal, he could only recall the baby lying on the doorstep, freezing, for God’s sake that was all he could remember.

_I was enough for her, not long ago,_

_I was her number one, she told me so,_

_And she still means the world to me, just so you know,_

_So be careful when you hold my girl_

Hannibal was standing by the drinks table, engaged in polite conversation, when Sofia ran up to him, and dragged him on the dance floor, and put her arms around him.

“You didn’t think you’d get away with not dancing with me, did you?”

“Not for a moment.” Hannibal smiled at her.

_I loved her first,_

_I held her first,_

_And a place in my heart, will always be hers,_

_From the first breath she breathed, when she first smiled at me,_

_I knew the love of a father runs deep,_

_Someday you might know, what I’m going through,_

_When a miracle smiles up at you._

The music rolled, and they swayed, and in time with the slow song, Hannibal could actually taste the terrible fair food they had tried when Sofia was six, as well as the taste of the baby food he had ate, to convince his princess of eating them too. He could tangibly feel the hard, plastic crowns on his head as the four year old sat him down and forced him and Will to play princess parties, or some such game. He could taste the flavour of the chocolate milk he always taste tested to check if it was far too hot. He could smell her dirty diapers, and the Barbie perfume she was obsessed with at nine. Even as he danced with the girl, he could still feel the obvious pain of stepping on a Lego she had left out accidentally, and the acrid taste of panic when she got lost at some crowded place.

“Papa?” Sofia whispered triumphantly. “Are you crying?”

“No.” Hannibal blinked quickly, chagrined at his momentary loss of control.

“Yes, you _were_ ,” she insisted, grinning.

“Then we shall keep this a small secret, only you and me, all right?”  He smiled at her.

“Sure, just like all our secrets.”  Father and daughter had many secrets, like where the first tulip bloomed after spring, and where to buy the best books.

Hannibal smiled at her, and let go of her arms as the song swelled to an end, and found her ear. “You enjoy tonight, all right, princess?” He let the nickname roll off his tongue one last time, one more time the name rolled away from his lips, one more time before she was Raoul’s princess, and not his. One smile, a wave, and she was off into the crowd. Hannibal stepped back, ready to leave the floor, but stronger, rougher arms caught hold of him, and dragged him back on the floor, and winked at him.

“For heaven’s sake, Will, half the people here write books against homosexuality in their spare time.” Hannibal hissed at him, although he put his arms around the other man.

“Let’s be their new subjects then.” He winked, before adding, more seriously. “We’ve brought her up brilliantly havent we? She’s turned out to be brilliant.”

“We have, I suppose. We have had a memorable time, these years with her.” Hannibal considered. “Now she won’t be there at all.”

“Can’t imagine the house without her…” Will mused. “Won’t be the same, not without our kid.”

Hannibal, ignoring the piercing, disapproving glare of an older lady behind him, stood closer to Will, and held him tighter.

“True, it will not be the same. But we might find other things to occupy our time with.” He whispered seductively in Graham’s ear.

“True.”

And in the light of the strobes at their daughter’s wedding, Hannibal and Will kissed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES OHMYGOD THE END   
> I know the wedding bit is soppy, but damn it, its a wedding okay haha, so yup, the story ends here. Now, I love all of you, and all your dedicated comments (WHICH YOU WILL STILL COMMENT AT THIS CHAPTER OK) and I urge you all to check out [ xEatxThexRudex 's DeviantArt ](http://evansblack.deviantart.com/) which I JUST discovered yesterday and OHMYGOD YOUR HANNIGRAM MANIPULATIONS ARE BRILLIANT *dies*   
> Okay, so I love all of you, and yeah this is over asdf, so please leave a final comment, telling me how much you hated this, or liked it, or whatever, just one last one, thanks babes <3

**Author's Note:**

> YES I KNOW. YOU COULD MAKE FONDUE WITH ALL THE CHEESINESS. But hey, its Chapter One ok? Please do leave me some comments, I'd be most grateful!


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